He doesn't remove his hand from his eye--grinds it in deeper, pushing the pain into his nerve for relief. That punishing sensation of agony and relief.

"Because I am." How is that so difficult to understand? How much can he say it? How long will it take until the world acknowledges it? His voice strains, like even thinking about Psi's question is so onerous that--agghh, the light still hurts more than his hand.

"What do you do with trash except throw it out? Even if you haven't disposed of it yet, that's its destiny. It's something inherently nasty. It's already worthless."

He can hardly see any more?