Dear 3 A.M. Brain,

I can’t deny it: you’ve got style. Remember that time you suggested that we watch all 13 episodes of Harper’s Island in one go? That was pretty fun. Or that one time you dragged me up to make baked potatoes and learn HTML coding? Classic.

But there are some things we need to talk about. I’ve avoided this conversation in the past, but the fact is, we’re stuck together and if this is going to work, we should get some things straight. Neither of us have much chill, but let's just try to communicate here.

A part of me loves that you’re so crazy and creative. I can’t tell you how thankful I am for all the fanfiction ideas. “What if?” is a powerful and productive tool for a writer. But it can also be a formidable weapon in the hands of Anxiety. I don’t like how you two gossip about me right in front of my face.

And bringing up embarrassing memories from middle school? Not warranted. I don’t need to remember that time I got my braces tightened and I was running to Pre-Algebra without a hall pass and suddenly I was being chased by a campus monitor and I panicked and tripped and fell into a trash can which then got knocked over and I rolled down the stairs inside said trash can and finally got asked “Whatchu doin’ in that trash can?” as I picked a napkin stained with day-old strawberry yogurt out of my hair.

(I couldn’t make that up. You know that that happened.)

But I can laugh it off. It’s a great conversation starter and it makes me feel like Lizzie McGuire.

When you bring up really bad memories, though? Times I was misunderstood? Times I was manipulated?

Worst of all, times I made mistakes?

I don't get why you think I should still be punishing myself for the past.

No, actually, I think I know. That's just part of who you are. I think that 3 A.M. is not a very good time to be awake.

So I’ll try not to stay up so late. It’s not good for us. And it definitely isn't helping my secret (well...not so secret) stash of tater tots at the bottom of the freezer.

But when meeting up with you is unavoidable and I can't drown you out with a cup of tea and a book, I'll try to remember this:

"Weeping may last the night, but joy comes in the morning."