"I... I just don't know how to deal with it. This. I don't know!" Frisk gestures emphatically, face still beneath their pillow. "It's like... back in the Underground, I felt good about myself because I could talk my way out of most fights. But. That's just. I can't do that here and it sucks because I keep on getting reminded how shitty I used to be back home before I met you and the worst part is that I have to fight to protect people! I can't just talk at the enemy and make their problems go away when they're murderous psychopaths who have a compulsion to kill teenagers on Friday the Thirteenth! And even if I tried a class like Dancer or whatever, I'd eventually end up alone, cornered, and pretty much helpless! I just... I just want to forget about all of this and run away but then I'd feel bad and come back and do more stupid stuff for validation because I'd've abandoned people and... I just don't know, Papyrus! I just don't know." Somewhat belatedly, Frisk realizes that they've been crying, and try to conceal it by burying their face deeper in the pillow.