“My Brain at 3 AM: A Comedy Special Nobody Asked For”

My 3 AM brain is the most dramatic thing in Europe: it has no health insurance but insists on running a full psychological thriller marathon every night.It wants to rethink life choices, replay conversations from 2011, and panic about emails I haven’t even received yet — like a one-woman HR department on Red Bull.

Add Gen-X trauma seasoning — latchkey childhood, dial-up internet, “just walk it off” emotional support — and now you’ve got Netflix-level content with a R0 production budget.Some nights I lie there overthinking like it’s my part-time job, clocking unpaid overtime in the Department of Worst-Case Scenarios.

Other nights I’m suddenly planning my entire digital empire at 03:07, convinced I’ll wake up a millionaire — even though I’ll actually wake up a raccoon with Wi-Fi, cracked cuticles, and eye bags that need their own postal code.There is no in-between. It’s either “everything is doomed” or “let’s redesign my entire life, business model, and living room before sunrise.”

But here’s what finally clicked: the chaos isn’t a flaw — it’s data.It’s creativity, survival instinct, stubbornness, humour, and coping mechanisms all blended into one unhinged smoothie that keeps whispering,“We’ve survived worse, babes. Keep going.”

I’ve lived through enough plot twists to earn the right to be a little chaotic and very self-aware.And if you’re reading this? You probably have too — because people with boring lives don’t usually host full TED Talks in their heads at 3 AM.

We’re rebuilding, healing, laughing, swearing, doom-scrolling, and still moving forward anyway — one over-engineered thought at a time.That’s the diary entry. That’s the joke.And honestly? The fact that you’re still here, still trying, still showing up…that’s already the win.