The Block Button Saved My Sanity

More Emotional, Less Logical

This year I have been busy doing something that should qualify as an Olympic sport: defending my personal space. Not casually. Not politely. I mean with sweat, blood, and the occasional dramatic sigh. If there were medals for protecting one’s freedom from unnecessary people, I would at least be competing for bronze.

Somewhere along the way, people developed a strange hobby — wandering into my life like uninvited inspectors, examining my character as if it were a suspicious passport at an airport. They question my abilities, audit my intelligence, and occasionally attempt to redecorate my personal space with their unsolicited opinions.

It is fascinating, really.

The loudest critics often come from a particularly rare species: people who have never written anything longer than a grocery list, yet somehow feel qualified to critique my writing. These are individuals who have never produced a one-page reflection about life, love, or even the tragic philosophy behind missing socks. And yet they confidently analyze my work as if they are literary professors.

I always admire such courage.

My writing, apparently, has been “doubted” and “underestimated.” Which is ironic. Because the same people who question it have never managed to convince even three people to voluntarily read their thoughts on a global platform like Substack. Not three strangers. Not even three relatives who felt socially obligated.

Meanwhile, I sit quietly with subscribers — proof that somewhere in the world, a few brave souls willingly read what I write without needing to be bribed with lunch.

Now that, to me, is progress.

There is a line I borrowed from the Bible that has been living rent-free in my mind: Protect your mind, for from it flow the springs of life. I have slightly upgraded the translation for modern survival. Protect your mind… because that is where your sanity, creativity, and occasional brilliance reside. If you let every passer-by throw stones into that spring, do not be surprised when the water becomes muddy.

So this year I made a decision. A radical one.

I will protect my mind.

Not dramatically. Not with speeches. Simply with the most powerful modern boundary-setting technology ever invented: the block button.

And let me say this — the block button is deeply underrated. It is the digital equivalent of quietly closing your gate while someone is still explaining why they deserve to enter your compound.

On WhatsApp alone, I have accumulated over thirty blocked contacts. Thirty. At this point, it looks less like a contact list and more like a museum of former disturbances.

Facebook? Let’s just say the number is… impressive. A thriving ecosystem of people who once believed my timeline was a public debate hall.

TikTok is relatively peaceful. Only about ten individuals have been escorted out of the premises. A modest number. I consider that community service.

And then there is Substack — the calm intellectual neighborhood where I share my writing. Thankfully, only three individuals have managed to cross the invisible fence there. Three people who attempted to encroach on my intelligence and dignity.

Three.

Honestly, I consider that a statistical success.

Some people believe blocking others is rude. I disagree. Blocking is simply the adult version of closing your bedroom door when the noise outside becomes unbearable.

Image Generated by AI

Image Generated by AI

Peace is not cruelty. Boundaries are not hostility. Silence is not weakness.

Sometimes it is just emotional intelligence finally refusing to negotiate with nonsense.

So yes — this year I have become more emotional and less logical.

Emotion told me that peace matters.

Emotion reminded me that dignity is non-negotiable.

Emotion insisted that not every voice deserves a microphone in my life.

Logic would have said: “Just tolerate them.”

But logic, unfortunately, has never had to read the comment section.

And that is exactly why this year, I chose emotion.

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