There are songs that make you feel good, and there are songs that make you feel. For me, Insomniya by Kenji Deadass falls into the second category. It’s not just a track I listen to—it’s one I feel in my chest. It’s one of those rare songs that seems to come from a place of raw honesty, like it was written at 2AM when the world is quiet and all you can hear are your own thoughts… and the echo of someone’s name in your head.
I’m not a music critic. I’m just someone who loves music and the stories it tells. And Insomniya tells a story so many of us know all too well—the kind of love that keeps you up at night, not because you’re in love, but because you’re not sure if they are.
When Love Turns Into Questions
The song opens with the line, “Ganito na ba ang pag-ibig?”
A simple question. But in that moment, it carries so much weight.
It’s the kind of line you whisper to yourself after crying into your pillow, or after re-reading a message thread that suddenly went cold. It’s a question many of us ask when love stops feeling like a comfort and starts feeling like confusion.
“Is this really what love is supposed to feel like?”
“Is love supposed to leave me more sleepless than secure?”
Kenji doesn’t scream these feelings at us—he whispers them, sings them gently, almost like he’s still trying to make sense of it himself. And that’s what makes the song hit differently. It feels real. Not overly polished. Not trying too hard. Just honest.
“Nakuha ko lang ay insomniya”
This line—“Nakuha ko lang ay insomniya”—might sound funny at first, like a punchline. But the more you sit with it, the more you realize how painful that truth is.
You gave your all. You loved with everything. You stayed up late thinking of them, hoping they’d think of you too. But what you got in return? Sleepless nights. Doubt. Silence. Mixed signals. Or worse, the feeling that maybe you were never really in their heart at all.
It’s the kind of lyric that sneaks up on you. The first time, you nod. The second time, it stings. The third time, you feel seen.
Because who among us hasn’t experienced that kind of love? The one where you fall hard, hoping you’re not falling alone. The one where you overthink every message, replay every memory, searching for signs they might’ve felt the same.
And in the silence of the night, the only thing that grows louder is your own overthinking.
Holding Hands With Someone Who’s Already Let Go
There’s a line in the song that absolutely broke me:
“Hawak ang ‘yong kamay, ‘ket nararamdamang ‘di ‘to magiging tunay.”
It’s such a quiet heartbreak. You’re still there. Still holding their hand. Still present. But deep down, you already know—this isn’t real. Not really. Maybe it once was. Maybe it never was. But now, you feel it slipping.
And yet, you don’t let go.
You keep giving. You keep hoping. You keep loving.
This is what makes Insomniya so powerful. It’s not a song about dramatic heartbreak. It’s about quiet pain. The kind that doesn’t scream, but lingers. The kind that feels too familiar to ignore.
It’s about unrequited love—not just the kind where they don’t love you back, but the kind where they kind of do… just not enough. Not in the way you need. Not in the way that lets you sleep peacefully at night.
A Song for the Ones Who Love Too Much
Insomniya isn’t about moving on. It’s not about empowerment. It’s not a love anthem or a heartbreak ballad in the traditional sense. It’s more like a diary entry from someone who’s still in it. Still loving. Still losing sleep. Still wondering.
That’s what makes it so relatable.
It’s for the people who give even when there’s nothing left to receive.
It’s for those who stay up late for someone who sleeps soundly without them.
It’s for the lovers who pour their hearts into someone who only gives them crumbs.
And maybe that sounds sad—but sometimes, that kind of music is what helps you feel less alone. Sometimes, it’s comforting to know someone else gets it. That your pain isn’t just yours. That somewhere out there, someone wrote a song at 2AM because they couldn’t sleep either.
No Flash, Just Feelings
One thing I really appreciate about Kenji Deadass and this track is that it doesn’t try to be flashy. There’s no need for dramatic production or over-the-top vocals. The emotions do all the work.
The stripped-down vibe lets the lyrics breathe, lets the pain sit with you. It’s that kind of track you play on loop when you don’t want advice—you just want company. You just want a song to say what you can’t.
Music as a Mirror
In the end, that’s what Insomniya is: a mirror.
It shows us our own late-night feelings. The vulnerability we often hide. The questions we ask in silence. It doesn’t pretend to offer answers. It doesn’t try to wrap things up neatly. Instead, it just says, “Hey. I feel this too.”
And that’s what makes it beautiful.
Because sometimes, what we need most isn’t closure.
It’s connection.
Whether you’re going through a heartbreak, stuck in the uncertainty of “almost,” or just feeling a little too much for someone who doesn’t see you the same way—Insomniya is the kind of song that understands.
Not because it has all the right words.
But because it has all the right feelings.
Kenji Deadass’ “Insomniya” is available on major streaming platforms.
And if you’re like me—just a music lover trying to find the right song to match your 2AM thoughts—this one’s worth adding to your playlist.
Let it play. Let it hurt. Let it heal.
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