It’s suffocating.

Pleasing words were gushing out; sugar-coated, leaking confusion underneath. Bounded to keep engaged yet incarcerated for guilt.

Well, maybe you feel obliged to trivialize my dispiriting thoughts just to uplift the mood, for yourself, for the conversation.

It nonetheless brought me down to the ground, sunken, disappeared. It felt like an objection, balking my pessimism. As though my whole existence is a lie, where I have been blinded under the sun, and you’re the only one with eyes pointing at how bright the sunlight is.

But that very sun is burning me thoroughly.
And you’re turning your head away, consciously.