the way my throat feels a little tight when the experiment proves me wrong… it’s not disappointment exactly, more like… ego shedding. like the little scientist inside is sulking because the hypothesis didn't pan out. even though logically, the point is to find out what's ACTUALLY happening, not to be right, and the spreadsheet is a mirror, reflecting back where i aimed versus where i landed, and the funny thing is, i always think i want to be wrong, that i'm open to being wrong, but the body… the body knows how much i like being right, and the tightness is just… that recognition. and it's okay to be human, even in the experiment, even when the data is yelling at me to change course, it’s just… information, that’s all it is, nothing more, nothing less. That resistance to the truth feels like the clay fighting back on the wheel, stiff and unwilling to center. It takes a softer hand, more water, and the patience to accept the wobble before you can coax it into something honest.