At first it felt like ordinary curiosity.
I read a little.
Watched a video.
Closed the tab.
Went on with my day.
At least that’s how I remember it.
What feels strange now is that I can’t point to the exact moment when it stopped being something I looked at occasionally and started taking up space even when I wasn’t looking.
It didn’t happen all at once.
There wasn’t a decision.
I just kept coming back.
The tab
One night I opened something I had already seen.
Not because I had forgotten it.
Because I remembered it.
I wanted to check something.
I don’t know what.
I watched it again.
Then another.
Then another.
When I finally closed the computer I felt ridiculous.
Not because of what I had watched.
Because of how much time I had spent checking.
The test
For several days I told myself it was still simple curiosity.
The word was comforting.
Curiosity.
It sounds small.
Harmless.
Temporary.
But I started noticing something uncomfortable.
Every answer produced another question.
And the new question was always more interesting than the previous answer.
The screen
One night I closed the laptop.
Stood up.
Walked to the door.
Then came back.
Opened it again.
Not because I had forgotten something.
Because I wanted to reread a sentence.
Just one sentence.
When I finished reading it, I didn’t feel relief.
I felt the urge to keep looking.
That was much worse.
The change
I think the excitement changed before I noticed it.
At first it was direct.
Easy to recognize.
Then it mixed with something else.
Anticipation.
Curiosity.
A strange need to understand.
I didn’t understand why I kept reading.
And I kept reading to understand why I kept reading.
The embarrassment
There is something I still struggle to admit.
Sometimes I wasn’t opening anything new.
I was returning to the same things.
The same conversations.
The same explanations.
The same experiences.
As if I were searching for one specific sentence.
A sentence that would justify everything else.
It never appeared.
And I kept returning anyway.
The neck
A few weeks ago I thought something strange.
I have to move my neck.
I moved it.
Normal.
But the sentence came back.
I have to move my neck.
Then a different doubt appeared.
Not whether I could move it.
But why the sentence had appeared at all.
And why it suddenly felt important.
What actually worries me
For a long time I thought I was trying to understand domination.
Now I’m not sure.
Sometimes I think I’m trying to find the exact moment when I started needing to understand it.
And I’m beginning to suspect that continuing to search for that moment is exactly what keeps the search alive.
I have to move the neck there is no neck…
