Why Darkness Falls in Clusters

Bad luck doesn’t knock politely. It breaks in. And when it does, it rarely comes alone.

Misfortune has a peculiar gravity. One failure begets another, and soon, the weight of it feels insurmountable. We call it "bad things happen in threes" as if quantifying chaos makes it less cruel. But what if this pattern isn't random at all? What if hardship feeds on itself, like a fire drawing strength from the wind?

The world is addicted to equilibrium. Success breeds confidence, confidence breeds opportunity. But failure? Failure gnaws at the foundations of stability. It undermines focus, strips away resilience, and leaves cracks for further ruin to seep in. One missed opportunity leads to doubt, doubt breeds hesitation, and hesitation allows the next blow to land harder. The world senses weakness the way predators sense blood.

Yet, within this spiral lies a cruel kind of honesty. Adversity doesn’t disguise itself. It doesn't lie or flatter. It exposes. It tears away comfort and illusion, leaving only the raw, unfiltered core of who we are. When things fall apart, so does the mask. Maybe that's why it all happens at once—because the universe isn't punishing us. It's showing us who we really are without the armor.

But here’s the paradox: that same gravity that pulls misfortune inward can be reversed. Not through positivity, not through blind optimism, but through resilience that is cold, unyielding, and deliberate. Misfortune thrives when we flinch. It weakens when we don’t.

So, let the weight pile on. Let it crush. Because beyond the breaking point, something strange happens. You stop caring about the next blow. Pain becomes familiar, failure loses its edge, and the fear that once controlled you dissipates. What remains is someone the world can no longer predict, no longer intimidate.

Perhaps that’s why bad things happen in waves—not to drown us, but to force us to breathe underwater.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s where true strength begins.