I don’t keep reading because I understand more. I keep reading because I understand less.
I shouldn’t be writing this.
Really.
I feel embarrassed about how easy it is to go back.
Not to “reading”.
To this.
To opening it again.
I put my phone face down.
Like that means something.
Five minutes later I turn it over.
I don’t think.
I just do it.
And that’s what I don’t like.
There is no clear decision.
Only… movement.
At first it was curiosity.
That’s what I told myself.
Curiosity.
It sounds clean.
It sounds acceptable.
But it’s not clean.
It doesn’t stay there.
I start going back without a clear reason.
“I’ll just look a bit more” and that’s it.
That’s all it takes.
I notice something while writing this:
it’s not that I want to see it.
it’s that it bothers me not to.
I don’t know how to explain that without it sounding strange.
And it already sounds strange anyway.
There are moments when I leave the phone open and don’t really read.
I just look.
Not fully entering.
Like entering would be too much.
And the worst part is this:
I don’t get up.
I don’t close it.
I stay.
That’s what I feel ashamed of admitting.
because there is no force there.
only continuity.
I remember one very specific moment.
Screen on.
Me sitting.
Doing nothing.
Really nothing.
And still I didn’t leave.
There was no reason to stay.
But I stayed anyway.
That’s what I don’t understand.
Not what I’m seeing.
But why I stay.
I notice while writing this that I’m trying to justify it.
as if I need to explain it properly so it doesn’t sound like what it is.
But what it is, is this:
I go back.
again.
without fully deciding.
And this feels more embarrassing than anything else:
that I’m writing this like it’s not entirely about me.
but it is me.
and I know it while I write it.
I have to move the neck I am not moving it I should…
