Thoughts swirl around in my head like a colony of blind army ants, lost in a death spiral, parading in my chest. When Iβm deep in negative thoughts, this feels accurate. When Iβm out, this all feels a bit dramatic.
Thoughts swirl in my mind like a colony of blind army ants, trapped in a ceaseless, spiraling marchβeach one lost, yet compelled to follow the others. When Iβm caught in a wave of negative thinking, this feels painfully true. But when Iβm clear of it, the analogy seems a bit overblown.
Ant mills, with their hypnotic, disorienting patterns, are oddly beautiful to watchβyet the ants, locked into the loop of following each other, march themselves to their deaths. Only an outside forceβa shift in the environment or a few exhausted ants breaking awayβcan interrupt the cycle and stop the march. For those who manage to escape, I imagine itβs hard to understand how they got pulled in so deeply to begin with.
