Sometimes, I find it hard to write, and sometimes I don't. And sometimes, I find it difficult to bring to words how sad and happy and frustrated and angry and ecstatic and morose and forlorn and agitated I am with life.

That's why, most of the time, I choose not to speak.

Because words aren't enough to express my introspection. Because words would only complicate my complicated thoughts. Because my rumination is a process that words cannot simply justify.

Because everyone wants to speak, yet no one wants to listen.

Most of the people nowadays are too egoistic to lend an ear.

Others whine of not being heard, yet they only listen to respond, not to understand.

That's where problems stem.

I'd rather be a silent listener than a speaker who only listens to respond, not to understand.