I don’t know when the screen started behaving as if it had memory.
It’s not real memory.
I know that.
And still… it appears.
Sometimes I open the same place twice in a row.
And the second time is not the same.
Not in content.
In feeling.
As if something had changed between one opening and the next, even though I know I did nothing.
Or I think I did nothing.
At first I thought it was a glitch.
A delay.
A loading issue.
Something technical.
That explanation calmed me.
Because it kept everything normal.
But now I’m not so sure that’s what it is.
There are moments when I’m certain I did something.
Closed something.
Opened something else.
Moved.
And then the screen shows a sequence that doesn’t fully match.
Not obviously different.
Worse.
Almost identical.
Too identical.
As if it had been rebuilt from my intention… but without me.
Something uncomfortable starts happening.
I begin to doubt what I just did seconds ago.
Not hours.
Seconds.
And that is not confusion.
It is something else.
A very small loss.
But constant.
The strangest part is not the screen.
It is me looking at it again.
That’s what doesn’t fit.
Because I always return with the feeling that this time I’m going to check something important.
And it is never important.
But I still return.
There is a point I cannot locate.
The exact moment I decide to look again.
I don’t see it.
I don’t remember it.
It only appears afterward.
When I am already inside again.
And then something worse starts to happen.
It’s not that the screen changes.
It’s that I stop remembering what the previous version was.
And then both become equally real.
Or neither is.
Sometimes I tell myself it’s imagination.
That I’m exaggerating.
That nothing is happening.
And for a while it works.
But then I look again.
Just to make sure.
And that word is the one that bothers me most.
Make sure.
Because I’m never sure what I’m making sure of.
There is a detail that shouldn’t matter.
But it starts to.
When I close the screen, I don’t always remember closing it.
Sometimes I find it already closed.
And I don’t know if it was me.
Or if it was already like that.
And the worst part is not the doubt.
It is that the doubt doesn’t go away.
It only accumulates.
The neck I am not moving it I should…
