There are corners of the mind that stay unlit on purpose. Not forgotten, just avoided. They collect bad thoughts, old experiences, half-formed ideas that were never meant to grow. They sit there quietly, patient, like pressure building underground.

Most days, discipline holds. Routine. Distraction. Work. Noise. The effort feels clean, controlled. But boredom loosens the seal. Feeling jaded widens the cracks. And then it happens...

Something seeps up...

Not all at once. A slow, dark ooze, like oil forcing its way through stone. It stains the surface thoughts, makes everything slippery. Old resentments resurface wearing new faces. Cruel ideas arrive uninvited and pretend they belong. You recognize them, and you don’t, and that is the worst part.

You push back. You tell yourself you are better than this. That these thoughts are not you, just residue. Sometimes it works…

Sometimes it doesn’t…

Because those corners were never empty. They were only waiting.

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