On routines, rabbits and the discomfort of glitches

Ready to create NEW PATTERNS?

There’s something off about this morning.

Not dramatically. Just a flicker.

The toothpaste tastes slightly different.

Your phone lights up before you touch it.

And, somehow, you remember a scene from The Matrix.

Neo, asleep.

A message on his screen: Wake up.

A knock.

A rabbit.

Today, there is a rabbit too.

He doesn’t say much.

He appears during meetings, chewing wires.

He sits on your keyboard while you type, watching you misspell things you used to know.

You call him Mr. Wise.

He does not confirm this.

Is he mocking you? Maybe.

But it’s a soft mockery.

Like someone poking at the edge of a mask - not to remove it, just to remind you it’s there.

Throughout the day, he shows up.

Not guiding. Not teaching. Just…interrupting.

By evening, you notice yourself noticing.

Words you didn’t mean.

Movements that repeat.

A laugh that doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

No revelation.

Just a small crack in the loop.

The rabbit tilts his head.

“Noticing is enough,” he doesn’t say.

But you hear it anyway.

The game hasn’t started.

It never stopped.

This post is not a breadcrumb. It’s a pause.