The speaker is caught between two pulls: a strong curiosity about what it would be like to feel nothing, and a firm statement that they aren't looking for that. They repeat "I wonder what it feels like" almost like a thought they can't shake, and the opening lines circle around it before the poem admits that feeling, for them, is constant but sometimes doesn't seem real.
The middle section is the darkest. "That second of pain" and the question "What's after?" suggest the speaker is imagining an ending of some kind, though the poem never says exactly what. They guess at a gentle answer, the sound of rain, then reject it: "There's probably a drought." Where rain might bring relief, they expect only dryness and emptiness.
The final lines hold the tension. "I do not seek it" is softened by a lone "Yet." That small word leaves the poem unsettled. The mood is quiet, uneasy, and honest, like someone half-admitting a thought they're not sure they should say out loud.