People lack accountability, then be like, "You could've just talked to me."

No, I couldn’t. Talking to you isn’t the same as having an actual conversation. You don’t listen with the intent to understand, you listen with the intent to defend yourself. The moment I express how I feel, you deflect. You shift the focus, you minimize my experiences, you twist my words, and you make me feel like I’m wrong for even speaking up. That’s not communication, that’s manipulation.

You gaslight me into questioning my own reality, as if the hurt I feel isn’t valid, as if I imagined the disrespect. You make me feel guilty for daring to set boundaries, as if protecting my own peace is somehow an offense against you. Every time I try to open up, I’m met with walls of excuses, denial, or blame-shifting. And over time, that teaches me something: it’s not worth it.

So no, I didn’t stay quiet because I didn’t care, or because I didn’t want to fix things. I stayed quiet because I realized that speaking up to someone who refuses accountability is like shouting into a void. Nothing changes, except I walk away feeling more drained, more misunderstood, and more disrespected.

Silence was not avoidance. Silence was self-preservation. I chose my peace over the endless cycle of defending myself against distortions, over begging for basic understanding, over hoping you’d suddenly decide to take responsibility. Sometimes silence is the loudest answer—because it’s me saying, “I see you for who you are, and I refuse to keep sacrificing my sanity just to prove my pain to someone who doesn’t want to hear it.”