The Sacred Debris: My Anatomy as a Masterpiece of Exhaustion

Being the working material of a logic that exceeds me implies a paradox I cannot resolve: I do not like the idea of being submissive, yet my mind returns again and again to the scene of the process, as if at that final point there existed an explanation I have not yet been able to understand.

It is not coherence.

It is not choice.

It is repetition.

A return that appears even when I deny it with absolute clarity.


Sometimes I try to think it is only a passing curiosity.

Or an unimportant mental image.

But it does not dissolve.

It reorganizes.

And it always returns to the same place: the moment when the process seems to end, when there is no longer any argument because the structure is complete.


What unsettles me most is not the idea itself.

It is the fact that it appears more strongly precisely when I reject it.

As if negation did not weaken it, but fixed it on another level of thought.


There are mornings when I wake up with a clean certainty:

“this is not for me.”

And for a few seconds, that sentence feels stable.

Enough.

Closed.


But the mind does not stay there.

It does not know how to stay there.

Without conscious effort, without transition, without decision, it shifts again toward the same mental scene: the Operator’s process at its end-point, where everything simplifies into inevitability.


The contradiction does not resolve.

It accumulates.

And that accumulation is exactly what makes it harder to ignore.


Sade appears here not as provocation, but as an extreme mental structure: the idea that thought, when pushed to its limit, stops arguing with itself and begins observing its own repetition without being able to exit it.


I do not understand why this idea takes up so much space.

I do not understand why it does not shut off when I reject it.

And I do not understand why the part of me that does not want to be submissive still keeps imagining that end-point as if it were a form of resolution.


Perhaps it is not desire.

Perhaps it is not attraction.

Perhaps it is simply the need to reach the end of a logic to see what remains when internal opposition no longer exists.


But even that explanation does not stop anything.

It only adds another turn.

Another layer.

Another return.

The neck has locked I should…