The sun like a sneaky keyhole view of hell.
How totally banal of you to ask what I really mean.
We all suffer alone in the real world; true empathy's impossible.
It looks like you can write a minimalist piece without much bleeding. And you can. But not a good one.
I've noticed that, while I can't help but respect and sort of envy the moral nerve of people who truly do not care what others think of them, people like this also make me nervous, and I tend to do my admiring from a safe distance.
It is unimaginably hard to do this, to stay conscious and alive, day in and day out.