I don’t know when it became more than curiosity.
At first, it really was just that. Curiosity.
Opening things. Closing them quickly. Opening them again.
Videos I never finished.
Pages left halfway as if that meant something.
Articles I said I was reading “out of interest.”
But it wasn’t interest.
It was something else.
Something that stayed in my body afterward.
Today I noticed something I didn’t want to admit.
It’s not what I look at.
It’s how I feel after looking at it.
As if the body remembers faster than I do.
I tried to stop.
Just one day.
Just not open anything.
It didn’t last.
Not because I couldn’t.
But because I was already back before I fully decided not to.
That’s what embarrassed me.
There is no clear decision.
Only a movement toward it.
I noticed the harness before I understood why I was looking for it.
The leather tightening over the chest didn’t feel external, but like something that “fit.”
Too well.
That’s the worst part.
When something fits too well, it stops feeling like a choice.
I felt excitement and rejection at the same time.
Not alternating.
Not one after the other.
Both at once.
And that’s what confused me.
Because if it were only one thing, it would be simple.
But it isn’t.
It’s like one part of me is just observing with curiosity…
and another is already inside it.
I tried to write it normally.
I can’t.
When I think about it, the sentence breaks.
As if it refuses to stay fixed.
I closed the laptop.
I don’t remember opening it again.
That’s the strangest part.
Not the action itself.
But the exact moment it stops being a decision.
I think this is what I’m afraid to admit:
I’m not trying to understand it.
I’m going back.
Before I understand it.
The neck I am not moving it I should…
