“It hurts,” says the ice to the sun, “It hurts me to be with you.”
“But it hurts me too,” says the sun. “Have you ever thought about how your dripping water sizzles on my skin?”
The ice was confused. “Your pain comes from my destruction, yet you invalidate my pain from my own destruction with it?”
“But my pain is important too!” The sun screams their pain louder than the ice ever could.
“Okay,” says the ice, and caters to the sun’s sizzling blisters, not acknowledging their own mutilation.
The blisters do look rather serious, of course.
And so the ice suffers in silence.