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The field in front of me looks alive. The grass glows under the sun. The view feels pure, almost like hope itself. Yet deep inside, my tree is hollow. Its trunk is weak. The memories that once painted its leaves bright have been taken over. Not by fire or storm but by something slower.

When the Mind Turns Against Itself
Termites do not eat wood in one day. They move slowly, bite by bite, until the trunk loses its strength. Thoughts can act the same way. They creep in without warning. A small doubt. A harsh memory. An old story we keep telling ourselves. They settle in our minds and begin to feed.

At first, we do not notice. The surface looks fine. The tree stands tall. The house feels strong. But deep inside, the walls are weaker. Over time, the quiet bite of worry and regret leaves scars we cannot hide.

The Slow Breaking of the Self We often think destruction is loud. But real damage is slow. It is the thought that repeats each night. The silent judgment that never leaves. The memory of a mistake we cannot forgive. They do not crush us all at once. They grind us down day after day.

When the house finally falls, we are shocked. Yet the fall was always coming. It was written in the daily feed of the termites we chose not to see.

Why the Mind Consumes The human mind is not only a builder. It is also a destroyer. The same thoughts that give us dreams can eat us alive. The same memories that bring joy can also bring sorrow. This is the paradox we live with.

Still, the termites of thought do not always take what is good. Sometimes they eat away the parts that were already rotting. Beliefs that no longer serve us. Stories that keep us chained. Expectations that stop us from growing. What feels like loss can also be a form of clearing.

Pain That Makes Space
A tree with a hollow trunk may look weak. Yet in that hollow, new life may grow. Moss, roots, even fresh shoots find space in the gap. The same happens with us. The pain of loss makes room for growth. The collapse of an old house makes way for a stronger one.

Our thoughts consume us, but they also shape us. They dismantle the lies we held on to. They cut away the weight we were not meant to carry.

Choosing What to Feed The truth is simple. We can let the termites of thought eat us fully. Or we can learn to feed them with care. Not every doubt needs to grow. Not every memory needs to stay. If we are cautious, we can guide what survives and what fades.

This does not mean the mind will always be kind. But it means we can stand in front of it, not as a victim, but as a watcher.

Feeling What Cannot Be Seen The field is bright. The tree still stands. To anyone looking from far, the view is beautiful. But the cracks, the hollows, the rust, these are felt, not seen. Our struggles often live in silence. They are carried in our breath, in the way we sit, in the way we speak.

This is what makes parasitic musings so powerful. They are invisible to others but heavy to us.

The Choice AheadIn the end, I stand here with two options. I can let these termites take me whole. Or I can absorb their lesson. I can see them as part of me, shaping me, carving me, not just breaking me.

The house I rebuild will not be the same. The tree will carry scars. But that does not mean it is ruined. It means it has lived.