I shouldn’t be reading this.
It’s not an idea, it’s a record.
Today I opened the same page again.
The same underlined sentence.
I left it marked as if it were accidental.
But it isn’t.
There is a screenshot on my phone.
I don’t remember taking it.
The angle of the text is too clean, too intentional.
I deleted it.
Then I checked the trash folder.
It was still there.
I don’t understand that.
The collar appears in the texts as if it were a technical object.
Not erotic.
Technical.
That word bothers me more than it should.
I searched “engineering of control” without admitting that’s what I was looking for.
The history makes it obvious.
I don’t delete it.
Not yet.
Today I noticed something worse.
I read a description and felt relief.
Then shame.
Then the need to read it again.
Not for pleasure.
For verification.
As if the second reading could change what I am.
It doesn’t.
But I repeat it anyway.
There is a detail that doesn’t fit.
In a note I wrote yesterday the word “placement” appears.
I don’t use that word.
Or I don’t think I do.
I checked older notes.
It’s there too.
Before yesterday.
Before I started paying attention to this.
That’s what I don’t understand.
It’s not that I’m changing.
It feels like it was already written before I read it.
And now I’m just finding the parts.
I closed the page.
I opened it again.
I don’t know why I do that.
There is no clear reward.
Only a brief sense of alignment.
Like something fits for a second and then refuses to stay that way.
The problem is not what I read.
It’s that I need to check it is still there after reading it.
My neck I am not moving it I should…
