Someone must be observing us through a magnifying glass Something very big in this speck of dust whose background is stained semi dark black And must be thinking of stuff we can't comprehend Or are supposed but are distracted It's very confusing you see you're never sure if anything ever matters Even by a liitle bit everything just as is It changes by its own neccesity And we are mere spectators and subjects of this transition and are required to metamorphose or be deleted To this magnifying glass are we something small that need a limit set perspective Or something that can grow more than we are Mere observations or vacancies Do we have any other place in this creation than to be this insignificant Insomnia files #3 Perks of anxiety #3

When you close your eyes You enter a realm of no bias A sort of familiar darkness greets you unlike the kind we run away from when we turn the kitchen lights off as if something isc hasing us These darknesses they share the same essence but yet not quite the same Are they ? One seems familiar the other is vast Have we confined this bit of darkness to our selves Well these lines aren't an attempt To elevate a phobia for the dark if taken properly this can be an antidote for sure But this idea of having confining our bit of darkness seems very relatable to another aspect of being Our being . The confinement of existence For us humans atleast Memories a bitter awakening of course to us is understanding the fragile nature if mankind even a damn microbe is more resistant to things around us To moving time We are not ageless Maybe our atoms are we are creatures of emotion or quite humbly merely balls of meat ,floating in a ball of dust between balls with heat admidst dust amd emptiness swirling around eachother for apparently no reason Or is there ? I don't know But here is what I know or seem or pretend to We invest a lot to make moments special And even more to remain kind to ourselves So we remember good things These memories are important Once time passes The only proof of something so beautiful ever happened is "US" The real time capsules We weave tales To keep peices of ourselves and what we've been through alive But we aren't eternal Nor is the earth There will be a time when we will be erased Our legacies too People we meet only to be Arranged in the bookshelves of vast voids of eons never to be touched upon again Like The final episode of a tv series or a webseries That foreshadow an ending right from the first episode , The last page of our favourite book , The voice of our grandparent saying "the end", You know there must be more to it right Yet we are forced To be happy with it The pain is real So is the fear We are but empty vessels And the reason we are noisy is we are afraid And a very adament attempt to forget that we can't confine our existence And that the darkness we think is our own when we close our eyes is linked to the scary endless one It's futile to be afriad We are already enguled in whatever scared us We are only fighting our illusions that we think are true Insomnia files #2 Perks of anxiety #2

Sometimes there's this odd weight on our chests and it aches It's almost as if it's a part of you but it suffocates you Or makes you breathe your own smog You doze off while wide awake Awake in a nightmare muscles tightly clenched and, you won't even know Peculiarly ,there's a screaming desire to put my fingers to my sternum feel the beating rythm And I am almost sure they'll be stained blue An unusual colour for blood Did it rot ,from being stuck there Unheard for so long Under pressure coal turns diamond This blue blood reminds me Not all things under pressure Glitter I'm still pale If it wasn't the rotten part that kept me pale What else is inside Untame this mind is a stranger One spends an eternity with insomnia files #1 perks of anxiety #1