Imagine being asked a barrage of questions while a whole room stares at you. That is the situation the speaker describes. The questions feel like bullets, the stares burn, and the speaker can't think fast enough to answer before the next one lands. Outwardly they stay still, but inside they are holding their breath and shaking, "not that you will see."
What makes the poem painful is the speaker's doubt. They can't tell whether the people asking are being kind or quietly laughing at them, and they half-want to believe the kind version so they can feel appreciated. Near the end they mention "my condition" and feeling judged for being different, though the poem doesn't say what that condition is.
The mood is anxious and claustrophobic, but the ending is gentle. The speaker doesn't ask for much: one question at a time, and a little less intense eye contact. The final lines admit what they are really afraid of, being seen.