I'm furious but would you know it?

Dear,

I don't talk to you because you wouldn't listen. You said that I should speak to you but all you could hear were the things coming from my mouth, when I need you to listen to the things from my heart.

I don't tell you things because you couldn't respond. Even a nod would suffice but all you did was stare into space. I know now that it's impossible for you to realize that your incapability to say anything have always made me cry.

I don't speak to you because you were always so far. I wish you were closer but to be truth, I have always felt that you had more things to say than I do.

I can't share with you because you treat my stories as if they were yours, and that is the worst of all.

I know for a fact that none of you would even realize that you're the one I'm actually addresing but it's okay. I'll pretend that it's okay, like I always do. It's the story of my life. It never mattered how many friends or the number of family members I have. In the end, I'm always by myself anyway.

I've found the cause for my inhibition. There is a hundred and one.