I thought the strange part was what I was looking for.
For weeks I was convinced of that.
That the uncomfortable part was in the videos.
In the stories.
In the tabs I closed too quickly whenever I heard a sound in the hallway.
It was a comfortable explanation.
Because it placed the problem outside of me.
It took me much longer than it should have to realize I was looking in the wrong place.
The alarm is still set.
I checked it this morning.
Which means that last night I did exactly what I intended to do.
I chose a time.
Pressed the right buttons.
Turned it on.
Everything happened exactly as it was supposed to happen.
And yet I don’t remember the moment.
I don’t remember the decision.
Only the result.
That’s what stays with me.
Not the content.
Not what I was reading.
That small empty space.
The missing part.
As if I disappeared for a few seconds and came back once everything had already been done.
The mug is still beside the computer.
It’s cold.
I know because I touch it.
Not because I remember finishing it.
There’s something strange about that.
Not the coffee.
Not the time.
The ease.
The natural way some things continue happening even after I stop paying attention.
I used to think I was trying to understand a subject.
Now I’m starting to suspect something else.
Maybe I’ve spent months watching the same moment.
That moment just before.
The exact second where something starts moving before I can point at it.
The uncomfortable part is that it doesn’t only worry me.
It fascinates me too.
If I wanted to, it would disappear.
That’s what I keep telling myself.
But I keep watching.
I keep trying to find the exact point.
The mechanism.
The transition.
The part where it still feels like a choice.
I need to move my neck.
I think about it.
I wait.
Nothing.
The screen is still on.
The mug is still cold.
And for a second I realize something I don’t like.
I’m not waiting to move my neck.
I’m waiting to feel like moving it.
As if even something that small has to arrive from somewhere else first.
I thought I was observing a habit.
Now I think I’ve been watching the distance between a decision and the feeling of having made it.
I have to move the neck the record cannot close I have to move the neck I am not moving it I should…
