their enjoyment of my torment

I sense a thousand emotions rushing toward me. They emerge from within me, but they continue to harass me, chasing me, tormenting me. I hesitate whether to blame myself, ask questions, or simply let it hurt and swallow my doubts, breaking me further. That way, I won't be embarrassed by making a mistake, but it will hurt more. I know this from experience. I doubt whether I have the courage to ask, and we return to the famous doubt: Is it better to speak or die? I feel my heart squeezing so vividly, as if an entity were squeezing it and watching my features react. It squeezes it slowly, enjoying my expressions, delighting in watching my face fade.