Insomnia

We're all ruining ourselves. By running. To a point where we're gonna crash, and shatter into pieces. Death and disease can do nothing to us, for we would have mentally destructed ourselves long before that. Where your worst fears would have come true just by fantasizing about them. You are trapped in a terrifying web, your flaming jealousies always enticing you. Undressed of the chimerical serenity, you - a rude skeleton, shaped of passion and impatience. You might think you are depressed or in an ugly phase. But that is not it. You are merely restless, your darkest desires and fearsome dreams, waiting for something to happen. And you are still chasing an illusion, a shimmer of tranquility and elation. You're no better than others, even though you pretend to laugh before them. We are helpless, we have no choice. We act like normal human beings. We are.