Saturday, 1 AM.
The whirl and hiss of a heater. The ruffling of curtains as a cold breeze hits my back. The tapping on a keyboard, the occasional click of a mouse. There’s chatter in the background as I work the night away, or, as my friends like to call it, “hot goss.”
“Did so-and-so have her baby yet?”
“I wonder what she’s going to name him.”
“How can she raise a kid when she’s in vet school?”
“Would we be invited to the bridal shower?” I interject over my two friends. Yiling turns over on the bed and looks at me. Dana pauses her scrolling through Twitter, and both of them look at my laptop screen.
“Are you done yet?”
“You’re not supposed to be working on vacation!”
I’m in Boston. My days are meant to be filled with friendship and adventure and food. And they are, mostly. I heard the clack-clack of Dana’s heels and her simultaneous complaints as we made our way through the cobblestone city – “If we walk the bridge, I’m just going to go back to Yiling’s apartment.”
I especially heard the loud exclamations from Yiling as she attempted to play tour guide for the weekend – “Look at that architecture!” 
But my nights are filled with work. I’ve brought my laptop along with me for the trip, making me both a nuisance and an over encumbered Skyrim character. I ignore my friends’ pleas to make my way to bed, and I continue with my perfectionist editing. Their voices grow fainter as they drift off to sleep, soon replaced by dual snores.
Thursday, 2 AM.
My phone beep-beep-beeps, and I know it’s from Facebook. I briefly glance at the screen. Notifications from my friends telling me to sleep, telling me they’re off to bed, telling me to take a break.
I put my phone back down and continue my work.
Tuesday, 3 AM.
It’s the loud snores of my father that keep me up as I type away, forever unsatisfied with the work I’m producing. Continual edits upon edits. An essay here. A story to read and workshop there. An entire club to manage, events to create.
I can tell my night-owl tendencies have prompted my mother to wake up again, the soft pattering of her slippers coming closer and closer until it’s right behind me. Her voice breaks the silence (and is a reprieve from my father’s snores).
“Aren’t you graduating? Why are you still working? Go to sleep!” She shuffles away, leaving me with these words to dwell on.
I bury myself further into my work, leaning so close to my laptop that my head almost hits the keyboard.
But now it’s 4 AM, and the chirp-chirp of the birds replaces the snores. If I continue on to 5 AM, 6 AM, I’ll be greeted by the rise of the sun.
The words of my friends, my mother, and Facebook messenger are finally heeded.
I save my projects, and finally take my respite with much needed sleep.
-Raisa Alexis Santos
The Junction Journal 