I don’t know when this started to feel normal.
I open the tab.
I wasn’t thinking about opening it.
That is what makes me look again.
There is nothing important inside.
Only the feeling that there should be.
I try not to check.
It works.
It doesn’t last long enough to trust.
Because then something else appears.
Not the tab.
But the fact that I am not looking at it.
As if not checking also needs to be checked.
I close it.
I open it again.
Not out of interest.
But to correct the previous gesture.
But the gesture is no longer the same.
It is never the same twice.
There is something strange about the things I initiate.
Not about what I see.
But about the moment I decide without remembering deciding.
The neck appears again.
I don’t move it.
I don’t even try.
I wait.
Nothing.
And for a second, that feels enough.
Then it doesn’t.
I have to move my neck.
The sentence appears.
But it doesn’t feel like an order.
It feels like a check.
I don’t move it.
But I check it.
And that is the new thing.
Not the neck.
The checking of the neck.
I start suspecting something.
Not about the neck.
But about the moment it stopped being a decision.
I am not sure when this began.
Only that every time I try to remember… I arrive too late.
The mismatch is a crack in marble.
I don’t remember seeing marble become marble.
Only that something is now holding itself up.
Without clear intervention.
Without clear origin.
And the unsettling part is not that it doesn’t move.
It is not knowing whether I am waiting for it to move…
or already checking that it doesn’t.
I have to move the neck I am not moving it…
