Recently, I’ve seen more heartfelt simple messages of thanks on projects. And it reminded me how powerful encouragement can be. Sometimes the best contribution is to recognize someone’s effort and say, “thank you.”

When someone gives their time and creativity freely, they deserve to be welcomed, not judged. It’s not about politeness; it’s about being genuine. If a project isn’t perfect, that’s fine — it was offered as a gift. You can always propose changes if you want or simply appreciate the intent behind it.

Personally, I’ve decided to start every interaction with a project by expressing kind words of gratitude to its author(s) and maintainer(s). Not just for them but also for me to consciously recognize their work and how it impacts me positively. Money can help, but I’ve realized that recognition and kindness reach further. Positive feedback tells someone, “I see what you made, and it matters.” That kind of encouragement keeps people going.

When it comes to donations, I see generous people giving to high-profile developers and projects that are already well supported, while many others — talented, dedicated people — quietly create useful libraries and tools without much attention or help. If you want to support open source financially, consider directing it toward those who genuinely need it — people whose work you use and appreciate, but who rarely get noticed or compensated.

I'm no longer participating in open source as a maintainer or contributor.

For a long time, I was deeply involved in open source — building things, collaborating, contributing where I could. It started with genuine curiosity and joy. But over time, the pressure, expectations, and unspoken obligations took a toll. Interactions that should have been creative or constructive often turned adversarial, political, or simply exhausting.

I've been hurt both by contributors and by maintainers. I’ve also made mistakes myself. I don't see this as a story of good vs bad actors — just a system that doesn’t protect the people in it. A culture that encourages visibility and perfection, but rarely offers safety, rest, or space to be imperfect.

I’m stepping away to reclaim the reason I started programming in the first place: because it was fun, strange, and full of possibility. Because I liked building things no one asked for. Because I liked following ideas off the edge of the map, even if they went nowhere. That’s what I want now — space to explore again, without the weight of audience or approval.

You may still see projects appear here from time to time. When I build something that I think might be useful or interesting, I may publish it. But:

• I don’t accept contributions, bug reports, or questions
• These projects are not community-managed or supported
• You are welcome to fork and build your own version — no permission needed

I don’t believe in “hostile forks.” I believe forking is how ideas grow. If you see something here and want to take it somewhere else, do it. You don’t need consensus or a vote or approval from the original author. Open source should be evolutionary, chaotic, and plural — not an endless debate over who owns what.

We need more weird ideas. More one-person projects. More tools built for joy, not traction. Open source doesn’t need to be professionalized or standardized to be valuable. There’s no single right way — just many paths. I’m choosing mine.

I’m coding again — but privately, anonymously, and without the emotional exposure of public maintenance. I hope you’re building what feels right to you, too.