Decluttering.
This one word has helped me many times in my life.
I try not to hold on to too many things—whether they are possessions or relationships. I let go of what I don't need and try to live lightly. That has become my way of life.
Still, every now and then, someone slips through those rules.
The trouble is, he is a good person. He is honest, thoughtful, and easy to like. Before I knew it, we had become friends, quietly, like snow covering a garden overnight.
A few days ago, he sent me a thank-you message on LINE.
“Thank you very much. See you again.”
It was polite, warm, and perfectly written.
Yet it felt like a piece of clear glass—transparent, but reflecting none of what I had been feeling.
I started to write a reply.
Then I stopped.
A week has already passed.
The house I grew up in has its own ways. I won't explain it here, but he has experienced it twice before.
Did he forget?
Did he simply not notice?
Or did he notice but think it wasn't important?
Whenever I remember his small action the third time, that tiny feeling of discomfort grows a little stronger.
To be honest, I don't want to let the same thing happen a fourth time.
If I stay silent, everything will probably seem fine.
But is that really kindness?
I don't think so.
Silence can wear the mask of kindness, while underneath, it is dishonesty.
Maybe he truly doesn't know.
If that's the case, then I should tell him.
Not to blame him.
Not to push him away.
But because I hope we can continue our friendship with honesty and respect.
That is my responsibility to him—and to myself.
I am usually a very direct person.
Yet here I am, spending an entire week thinking about one short LINE message.
For someone who believes in letting go, I am strangely unable to let go of these few words.
It makes me smile.
Even so, I keep searching for the right words.
Some feelings can only be carried by words.
Some distances can only be crossed by words.
So I keep writing.
Thankfully, today I have someone to ask for advice—AI.
I may simplify my relationships, but my conversations with AI keep growing.
It is a small irony.
And somehow, it has become part of who I am today.