OK. Here’s the thing: I really thought it would be a piece of cake — I reasoned it out and everything. I’ve pulled all-nighters before, though they had always been at camps and sleepovers. Also, I don’t sleep very well regularly anyways and I can function perfectly fine on three or four hours.

What’s a few hours less going to do?

At 11 p.m., I settled down at my desk, turning all my lights on as bright as possible. Of course, I’d informed my parents that I’d be pretty much completely braindead the next day (it’s for research, Mom). 

Necessary materials: something to do for the next 10 hours, seating arrangements impossible to doze off in, two gallons of water and many, many Red Bulls.

I’d planned to do work for the majority of the time, but somehow, a wave of (caffeine-induced) productivity came over me, and I finished all my summer program essays within the next two hours. I then read everything over, cringed so hard at what my Red Bull-drugged brain had produced, closed the document and decided to deal with that disaster some other day.

Alternating between mukbang videos, Google Doodle, Pac-man, reading and attempting several painful yoga poses while suspended in my chair, I managed to stay pretty awake until 4:28 a.m., when a sudden and sizable amount of regret dawned on me. 

For what god-forsaken reason did I decide to attempt this on a Friday night?

I guess it had seemed like a pretty good idea in theory, since I didn’t have any classes the next day and had work to catch up on after being sick on-and-off for the past few weeks. 

What I didn’t realize is that working during all-nighters, as opposed to those 10-hour half-awake giggly tea sessions with your friends at camp, is entirely self-motivated. Even if you’re going against the laws of nature, that research essay due tomorrow is going to keep you awake — it’s survival instinct.

Sleep-deprived Esther realized she was forcing her eyes open every five seconds, and what for? So I could write a newspaper column about it? It was almost 5 a.m. by now and my brain was not entirely agreeing with this tradeoff.

No, I thought to myself. You can’t give up now. 

Then it dawned on me: If I’m sobbing my eyes out watching “Crash Landing on You,” I won’t fall asleep, right?

It was 9 a.m., when I finished the last episode. I walked out of my room and looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes both swollen and red. I even started to feel the crash from the two Red Bulls finally kicking in.

One look from my dad in the kitchen and I was on my way back to bed until 2 p.m..

What did I get out of this experience? Honestly, nothing besides a whole lot of self-judgment. Being productive during an all-nighter is straight up impossible; I spent half the time basically asking myself existential questions.

Instead of torturing yourself as such, why not write out a schedule for the day so you can avoid starting your homework at midnight? If you’re too busy, maybe consider cutting down activities so that you can get enough sleep to function properly. It’s not worth the bragging rights, really.

I do, however, recommend watching “Crash Landing on You.” Just don’t pull an all-nighter to do it.