[His posture grows worse as he listens, the water moving as he pulls a leg up to lean forward against, his heel planted against the edge of the pool.]

I've never felt this unsure. [The admission is quiet, almost distracted-sounding.] Before this, I didn't need to think about how I felt about anything. I could just get away with not saying anything, and nobody really questioned it. Now, it feels like...like if I can't answer a question about like, how I'm doing or why I am this way, I'm failing. It follows me into every attempt at interaction. Even if it's not really true, it feels like I'm not making anyone's time here any easier and that's...that's all I want. I'm totally failing to do that, though, so I figured maybe, if I just stay out here for a while, things could resolve, and I could at least pretend that it's okay. Nobody else gets hurt on my behalf. They can talk it out on their own terms. If they want me, I'll be here.

[It's avoidance and self-isolation, fear of failure that he buries under layers and layers of nonchalance and cultural differences. He can't help that his attempt to be mindful ended up being interpreted as a cry for help]

I'm sorry for dragging you out here. You've got more to worry about than my mess-ups. Not that I'm not grateful for your company. I like when we get to talk, and I care about you a lot. I wouldn't have said anything if that weren't the case.