I shouldn’t have noticed so much the moment the leather covers my face.
But I do.
And that is the first thing that bothers me.
When the Operator tightens the mask, I feel something that is not exactly pressure.
It is… concentration.
As if everything that was previously spread across my face gathers into a single point.
And I realize that this excites me in a way that doesn’t match what I’m supposed to feel.
It is not immediate.
It is worse.
It is gradual.
I only notice it after.
When it is already on.
When thinking about it in the past tense no longer makes sense.
I’ve noticed I breathe differently with the leather on my face.
Not because I can’t breathe.
But because I hear myself breathing.
And that changes everything.
There is a second where I try to convince myself it is just discomfort.
But it isn’t.
Not entirely.
And that doubt… doesn’t leave.
It stays.
I’ve realized something I didn’t want to admit.
The tighter the mask is, the harder it becomes to imagine taking it off.
Not because I can’t.
But because the idea of removing it interrupts something I still don’t understand.
That’s what confuses me.
Not the object.
But my reaction to it.
I’ve tried to remember what my face felt like before this.
I can’t hold it steady.
It’s as if the memory is less stable than the current sensation.
And that makes me embarrassed.
Not because of the leather.
Because of me.
Because I notice this so clearly.
At some point I stop trying to analyze it.
Because analyzing it doesn’t reduce it.
It increases it.
And that’s where the real contradiction appears:
the more curiosity I feel about what is happening to me…
the more it takes up space inside me.
As if curiosity is not a starting point, but a side effect.
And that is what unsettles me the most.
Not the mask.
But the fact that I no longer know if I am using it…
or if I am beginning to think through it.
The neck I am not moving it I should…
