He could be saying I know to anything, but what he's really agreeing to is that he knows that he's not that important, that nothing he does really has an impact in the big scheme of things. It's logical, and it makes sense to him, and it's the kind of thing he'd tell someone else and really mean it, but it's amazing how logical things can be so difficult to comprehend when applied to oneself. All the rules he has for other people, all the ideas he has about them, those all go out the door when they're applying to him.
"You've hurt people?"
He doesn't necessarily know what Ned means by that, and that's why he turns his head back to look at him curiously. Maybe Ned means physically, like the guy he'd slammed into the display case. Maybe he means emotionally, because it's pretty damn hard to go through life without hurting at least one or two people emotionally, no matter how hard you try. Maybe he means something else entirely. "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want. Maybe it's enough just to know that I'm not the only one. Not the only terrible person. Not that you're terrible, I don't mean that at all, but not the only one who worries about this kind of thing."
And there he goes again, fumbling his way through sentences he's not sure how to articulate, making it all sound worse than it really is. He knows that he has a flair for the dramatic, that he's likely panicking about something that nobody else would even give a second's thought to, but he doesn't think he can help it. For better or for worse, this is how his brain works. It's exhausting.
He's startled to find that tears have sprung to his eyes, and he swipes at his eyes angrily with the sleeve of his sweater. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of Ned. This is already bad enough, and although he's generally more comfortable being emotional than most people, crying is another level of unpleasantness. Surely, even if Ned hasn't judged him so far, he'd judge him for that.
"I just hate knowing..." He hesitates, and then spills it all out in a long stream of words that practically run together. "I hate knowing that if I hadn't been born, my mother, whoever the hell she was, would probably still be alive. I mean, I don't know that for sure, because how could I, but she'd've had a better chance. I hate knowing that my existence hurt someone. Just existing. Not even doing anything. Not even consciously. Just the act of being here."
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He could be saying I know to anything, but what he's really agreeing to is that he knows that he's not that important, that nothing he does really has an impact in the big scheme of things. It's logical, and it makes sense to him, and it's the kind of thing he'd tell someone else and really mean it, but it's amazing how logical things can be so difficult to comprehend when applied to oneself. All the rules he has for other people, all the ideas he has about them, those all go out the door when they're applying to him.
"You've hurt people?"
He doesn't necessarily know what Ned means by that, and that's why he turns his head back to look at him curiously. Maybe Ned means physically, like the guy he'd slammed into the display case. Maybe he means emotionally, because it's pretty damn hard to go through life without hurting at least one or two people emotionally, no matter how hard you try. Maybe he means something else entirely. "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want. Maybe it's enough just to know that I'm not the only one. Not the only terrible person. Not that you're terrible, I don't mean that at all, but not the only one who worries about this kind of thing."
And there he goes again, fumbling his way through sentences he's not sure how to articulate, making it all sound worse than it really is. He knows that he has a flair for the dramatic, that he's likely panicking about something that nobody else would even give a second's thought to, but he doesn't think he can help it. For better or for worse, this is how his brain works. It's exhausting.
He's startled to find that tears have sprung to his eyes, and he swipes at his eyes angrily with the sleeve of his sweater. The last thing he needs is to cry in front of Ned. This is already bad enough, and although he's generally more comfortable being emotional than most people, crying is another level of unpleasantness. Surely, even if Ned hasn't judged him so far, he'd judge him for that.
"I just hate knowing..." He hesitates, and then spills it all out in a long stream of words that practically run together. "I hate knowing that if I hadn't been born, my mother, whoever the hell she was, would probably still be alive. I mean, I don't know that for sure, because how could I, but she'd've had a better chance. I hate knowing that my existence hurt someone. Just existing. Not even doing anything. Not even consciously. Just the act of being here."