Right after pressing the release button, Lily couldn't take her eyes off the screen for a while. After finishing the announcement for the new feature and posting it to social media, she found herself blankly staring at the app's notification log. Somewhere in her mind, she was searching for that comment that had arrived over a year ago. "Maybe that person isn't here anymore"—it's a strange feeling to release something while thinking that. Today I want to write about that. As a record of trying to organize, in my own way, the meaning of a delayed promise, the person I kept waiting, and the significance of continuing to create despite it all.
One year and two months ago, a message came through the app's feedback form.
"It would be helpful if I could see the records I've registered summarized by week. I do a weekly review every Monday morning, so I'd like to use it for that."
The moment I read it, I thought, "Yeah, that makes sense." It was something I'd felt was inconvenient myself while using the app. A weekly summary feature. Technically, it wasn't that complex. Just displaying data grouped by date.
Lily replied that same day. "Thank you for your feedback. I'll definitely consider it." She pressed send, added a note to her task management tool, and ended her work for the day.
The Convenience of the Word "Consider"
Looking back now, the word "consider" is too convenient. Neither a refusal nor a promise—an ambiguous limbo. From the sender's perspective, it might sound like "maybe they'll do it," with a hint of hope. But from my side, it was a way of saying "not right now."
At that point, there were 47 tasks waiting for release. In the prioritized list, the weekly summary was placed in the middle. Quietly placed on the shelf of "not urgent, but someday."
When you're doing personal development, the "someday" list grows without limit.
A new idea comes up. A user sends a request. You're using the app and think "I want to fix this." Each time, tasks increase, and the old ones get pushed down and down. The weekly summary sank that way too.
Why It Took Over a Year
To be honest, it wasn't "because it was difficult." It was actually the opposite—the comfort of "I can do it anytime" made me put it off.
When an urgent bug appears, I fix it. When a new feature idea is hot, I build it. When users increase, I review server settings. There's always something with the pull of "I have to do this now," and things without that pull just keep waiting.
The weekly summary had no pull. No matter how much the person who sent it was waiting every week, I couldn't see it from my side. The feedback form is one-way, and you can't know about someone's Monday morning unless you imagine it.
After one year and two months, I finally started working on the weekly summary.
The trigger was a second request from a different user. When the words "I want to review things week by week" arrived again from a completely different context, I finally felt it: "Ah, this is really needed." The moment I realized it wasn't just one person's request, but a voice that kept coming back.
Once I started, I had something working in three days. Really, three days. A feature that kept someone waiting for over a year, done in three days.
The Complex Feeling When It Worked
When the weekly display lined up neatly in the test data, I couldn't feel purely happy.
"Why didn't I do this a year ago?" and "But I really didn't have the capacity back then" were both running through my head at the same time. Both are true, and both are excuses. But with those complicated feelings, I pressed the release button. You rarely get to release something with a perfect feeling.
A few hours after posting the release announcement, a notification came in.
"I've been waiting for the weekly summary. I'll use it every week."
I didn't recognize the username. I have no way to confirm whether it's the same person who made the original request. Since feedback in the app is nearly anonymous, I can't even tell if it's the same person.
Thinking of Those Who Are Gone
It's likely that the person who made the original request is no longer using the app. After waiting over a year for a response that never came, they probably closed the app, found another way, and returned to their daily life.
I think that's the reality.
But today, someone else said "I've been waiting." Whether that person is the first one or not matters less than the fact that "there's someone here who needs this now." That fact is what makes me feel like pressing the release button was the right thing to do.
The guilt from the delay doesn't disappear. But the fact that it reached someone is real.
From this experience, Lily decided on one thing.
Don't use "I'll do it someday."
Instead, I started saying "I'll add it to my list." Not a commitment, but a statement of intent to "keep it in mind without forgetting."
When I Changed the Words, I Changed
It's just a matter of words. But something shifted inside me.
"I'll do it someday" sounds like a promise to the other person. But "I'll add it to my list" is honestly admitting that I'm deferring judgment. "I'm keeping it properly, but I don't know when"—an honest limbo.
In practice, this change made responding to feedback a bit easier. I don't have to make promises that are too heavy. But I'm not ignoring them either. Being able to articulate that middle ground turned out to be a bigger shift than I expected.
Instead of putting a request on the "someday shelf," I keep it in a "place where I can actually see it." Just that alone changes how I think about priorities. Months later, when I think "Oh, I got a second request for this," it's because I can actually see it.
When you're doing personal development, the feeling of "someone might be waiting" accumulates slowly.
Not a flashy success story, but a single line that arrived a year later: "I've been waiting." A single line added to a bug report: "I use it a lot." The existence of people using it becomes the meaning of creating.
Lily can keep doing personal development probably because small pieces of evidence like this arrive sometimes. Not big numbers, not viral shares, but the fact that someone was waiting for it.
While thinking "sorry for the delay," and also thinking "I'm glad it arrived."
Today, I'm going to pull one more task from the list that's becoming another "I'll do it someday."
There might be one like that on your list too.
Lily（@bokuwalily）― Individual developer. Creating iOS apps and web services in tandem with AI.
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Lily（@bokuwalily）― After leading a marketing organization of 50 people as CMO, I now create iOS apps and web services individually. I consult on customer acquisition, user flow design, and AI implementation and business automation.
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