I am beginning to suspect that the sadness does not appear because five days have passed.
The sadness appears because I do not know how many remain.
If someone told me exactly when the next session would be, something inside me would immediately relax.
Not because I would want to accelerate time.
Not because I would need to arrive sooner.
Simply because uncertainty would stop expanding.
But nobody says it.
And so the waiting continues to grow.
It occupies new spaces.
It invades conversations.
It invades mornings.
It invades moments that seem completely unrelated.
That is what feels so difficult to explain.
I do not like being submissive.
That sentence is still true.
It has not stopped being true.
I do not like pain.
That is still true as well.
I never saw any of this as something that could belong to my life.
It always seemed distant.
Something that happened to other kinds of people.
Strange people.
Different people.
People who existed behind a screen or inside a movie.
It never seemed related to me.
And yet here I am.
Five days later.
Thinking about it again.
And again.
And again.
As if there were a piece that does not fit.
And precisely because it does not fit, it refuses to disappear.
The more I try to resolve the contradiction, the larger it becomes.
Because contradiction should produce rejection.
Instead it produces attention.
It should produce distance.
Instead it produces proximity.
It should produce a conclusion.
Instead it produces another question.
And then another.
And then another.
I am beginning to suspect that obsession feeds on exactly that.
On the impossibility of closure.
Things we understand eventually end.
Things we do not understand remain open.
And something inside me keeps trying to close a door that never fully settles into its frame.
Sometimes I wonder who I was before this began occupying so much space.
The question appears often.
But every time I try to answer it, something strange happens.
I do not remember an identity.
I remember a distance.
I remember a time when all of this was far away.
Nothing more.
Something moved closer.
And it continues moving closer.
That is the disturbing part.
Because it does not seem to advance through decisions.
It advances through sedimentation.
Layer after layer.
Day after day.
Thought after thought.
Until one day you discover that you have spent half an hour staring at an idea you do not even like.
And yet you cannot step away from it.
Waiting makes everything worse.
Because waiting creates emptiness.
And emptiness always ends up being filled.
If there is no session.
If there is no date.
If there is no certainty.
The mind manufactures scenarios.
Hypotheses.
Memories.
Reconstructions.
Small details.
And then something that should occupy a few seconds ends up occupying hours.
I am beginning to suspect that what I miss is not exactly the Master.
Not even the session itself.
What I miss is the temporary disappearance of the contradiction.
Because during certain moments everything seems simpler.
There is a direction.
There is a function.
There is a structure.
And when that disappears I return to a much more ambiguous territory.
A territory where the questions return.
Where uncertainty returns.
Where the need to understand returns.
And perhaps that is where the real problem lies.
Because the more I need to understand it.
The less I understand it.
And the less I understand it.
The more space it occupies.
As if obsession had discovered a strange law.
A law according to which misunderstanding does not reduce the phenomenon.
It feeds it.
And every day that passes without answers seems to become another room added to a structure that continues growing by itself inside me.
I have to move the neck I am not moving it, the neck has locked I should…
