#90 Stop Calling Your Interrogation Comfort, It Hurts

You ask them to speak. You call it care, but it’s a demand: turn your suffering into something I can understand, something that fits in the cages of grammar. Your pain must learn to walk in a straight line.

But real pain does not walk. It does not even have a name. The one who refuses to speak is not broken — they are guarding something that your small words would only betray. They are the last honest person in the room, and you are there with a spoon, trying to carry the ocean.