There was a time when I waited for echoes in everything I did.

I’d send an email and keep refreshing my inbox. Give a gift and quietly wait for a reaction. Do something kind and wonder if anyone saw it, remembered it, thanked me.

Back then, I thought that meant I cared. Later, I realized, it was simply exhausting.

This year, I cleared out hundreds of things I had kept for years but never truly used. I didn’t trace where they came from. I didn’t revisit any relationships tied to them. I just lined them up neatly and donated them, one by one without expecting the recipient to remember me.

Strangely, I felt no emptiness, no inner tug. Letting go made me feel light.

That’s when I understood something: waiting for a response is a form of attachment. And attachment binds me to other people’s reactions.

Now, I don’t mind so much whether others reply or not. I’m not in a hurry to be understood. I’m not busy seeking validation.

The moment intention is given, the act is already complete. Whether the other person receives it, how they receive it, or how long they hold it, that belongs to their world, not mine.

I also judge people less now. Because once I stopped waiting for responses, I lost the ground on which to expect others to live up to my hopes.

As long as I’m steady in my own field, not rushing, not owing, not pulling, every second is honestly lived.

No response. It’s truly okay.



—— XC Scribbles · 陸拾伍 LXV 🦪