To you.

I don't know why I can't say these things anymore exactly. Perhaps it's because I'm afraid of you. Not afraid in the traditional sense. I am not afraid you will hurt me physically, or verbally. I am not afraid you will hurt me at all - not on purpose anyway. I know you love me. Perhaps it is because although I know you truly wish for my happiness, you have a selfish side - a side that is bigger, that overrides your wishes for me to be happy. I fear if I tell you my feelings, display my emotions, if I even frown - that you will be angry, annoyed or disappointed. I guess after all this time I have lost the will to stand up for my own heart. I am too tired, too weak. I can no longer bear to risk an argument with you. I don't think our love is strong enough to handle many more.

So now I bite my tongue. I can't tell you how I feel. I suspected this, but today I found out for sure. It's not the worst thing. It's just another sadness to add to my overbearing bundle of sadnesses I carry constantly on my back, in my mind.

I know you'd say "just tell me how you feel," and "it's okay." But I know it isn't. I can read you too well. It's too predictable.

I am afraid and so instead, I choose silence.