There is something that does not fully fit in the supervision.
Not in the procedure.
In me.
Because before it happens, I am already thinking it.
Not once.
Several times.
For days.
Not as desire.
That would be too clear.
It is more uncomfortable than that.
Harder to justify.
A kind of internal repetition I did not choose to activate.
Yet it appears anyway.
And that is what I do not like admitting.
That it does not begin at the technical moment.
It begins before.
Always before.
As if part of me had already accepted the scenario without consulting me.
And I only arrive afterwards.
I try to convince myself it is neutral.
That it is just observation.
But it is not.
It does not feel that way.
It feels like something that occupies space without asking permission.
And then remains.
The strange part is that I do not enjoy thinking about it.
At all.
There is no pleasure there.
No comfort.
Only an insistence that returns even when I try to ignore it.
And the worst part is that rejection does not remove it.
It reorganizes itself.
It adapts.
As if it did not depend on my will.
Only on my attention.
And yet I keep feeding it without meaning to.
Day after day.
Until it stops being an isolated thought.
And becomes structure.
Something I can no longer distinguish from the rest of my experience.
That is what unsettles me.
Not what happens in the supervision.
But the fact that I have anticipated it so many times without wanting to.
As if my mind arrived there before me.
And I only discover it afterwards.
And the more I try to push it away, the clearer it becomes.
Not stronger. Clearer.
Like an image that does not erase itself.
Only repeats with more precision.
And then I understand what is truly uncomfortable.
Not control.
But anticipation.
The mind arriving first.
The air tastes of marble resin and a renunciation that no longer has fissures it is the report of a body that has returned to the earth to be only structure engraved by his hand I have to move the neck I am not moving it the neck has locked I should…
