One morning, I opened a notification from the App Store and found characters I'd never seen before lined up on the screen. Five stars. That much I understood. But the words that followed were completely unreadable. Not English, not Japanese, not Chinese, not Korean—probably some language from Eastern Europe, I thought. Each character curved in unfamiliar ways, and I found myself frozen there for a moment. Standing in the kitchen with my smartphone in hand. I even forgot about the water boiling.
The translate button was right there. One tap and the meaning would appear. But I couldn't press it. For just a few seconds, I couldn't. What was this feeling? It wasn't quite the fear that something bad might be written. Something else entirely was stopping my finger. I still think about those few seconds sometimes.
This article is about that "few seconds before pressing" and the "quiet surprise after pressing." It's not a technical piece. Just an honest account of the day I learned that a small app had quietly entered someone's distant daily life. I'm writing this hoping it might reach even a few people who, like me, are making apps individually.
That review arrived about seven months after I released the app. To be honest, the download numbers were modest—just dozens per month. Reviews themselves were rare, so whenever I got one in Japanese or English, I'd open it right away and read it. Then suddenly, one came in a completely unfamiliar language.
Looking back, I wonder why I was so nervous. I think it was the moment I had to face the reality that "someone I don't know is using my app." I was used to releasing apps. But I had never really felt the reality that someone in a place I couldn't imagine was using it in their daily life. That door was suddenly about to open right in front of me.
The Difference Between "Being Used" and "Reaching Someone"
On the day I released the app, I was genuinely happy. But that happiness felt more like the satisfaction of "completing something" than the sense of "reaching someone."
It was the same even as downloads increased. The numbers went up. But I couldn't quite imagine that there were actual "people" behind those numbers. Especially people outside the Japanese-speaking world. Even if there were overseas users, they felt like abstract entities—I couldn't picture their faces, their lives, or how time flowed for them. I'd vaguely think "it would be nice if it reached globally," but I couldn't actually envision anything concrete.
Quiet Surprise
I pressed it. The translate button.
The text that appeared was something like this. I'm filling in some details from memory, but: "I use it every morning. I like how simple it is. I just wish it were a little different in this one way."
...It was a very sincere review. Not excessive praise, not anger—just the fact that someone was "using it" and a small request.
I found myself unable to move, still holding the screen. "Every morning," it said. Somewhere in the world, someone was using something I created every morning.
I Imagined That Person's "Morning"
I wondered what time they woke up. Since they said they used it in the morning, maybe they opened it during their commute or at breakfast time. While drinking coffee, or waiting for the bus. My app had become part of that person's morning routine.
Because the language was different, their daily schedule might be different too. While I was sleeping, that person was opening my app. I had never thought about things like that before.
I used the word "user" all the time, but I had never actually imagined a specific individual person. It's embarrassing how much I hadn't. Throughout the entire development process, I kept saying "for someone," but I realize now I hadn't really thought much about who that "someone" actually was.
I think individual development is an environment where it's easy to focus on the act of creation. There's no team, no external deadlines. You can work on it when you feel like it and take a break when you don't. But in exchange, your imagination about "reaching people" tends to thin out. At least, that was true for me.
I started because making things was fun. I managed to get it released. That alone gave me plenty of satisfaction. The reality that "someone is using it" existed beyond that point, but even though I understood it intellectually, it took seven months before I felt it in my bones.
Converting Numbers Into "People"
After getting that review, I changed my perspective a little.
When I look at download numbers now, I try to convert those numbers into "people." If it's 100 downloads, there are 100 people. Someone among them might be using it every morning. Just like the person who wrote that review in a language I didn't know from a distant country.
It's a really simple thing, but when your awareness shifts, how you approach your app changes a bit too. When I fix a bug, I think "someone's morning might break." When I add a small improvement, I think "I wonder if that person will notice." Even if the app isn't perfect, it's entered someone's daily life. I decided not to forget that.
The Regret of Not Replying
There's one thing I regret.
I didn't reply to that review. Or rather, I couldn't. I didn't know what to write. I understood the meaning after translating it. But I didn't have the confidence to write back in their language, and when I tried to write in English, I thought "will they understand?" and ended up not sending anything at all.
I still feel a bit of regret about it. I should have at least said "thank you for using it." In English, or in their translated language. It didn't have to be perfect—I should have sent at least one word. But while I was hesitating, it just never happened.
After that, a second review came from the same country. Both had four or five stars.
When I saw it, I felt like I might cry a little. Strange, right? From a stranger, in a language I don't know, but definitely conveying "goodwill."
When you're doing individual development, there are times when it's hard to maintain motivation. Times when downloads plateau, times when bugs keep appearing, times when you wonder "is anyone actually using this?" I've had those times too. The silence after release can be pretty tough.
But every time I remember that translated review, the fact that "it reached someone" comes back to me. On that night when I was writing code, on that afternoon when I was redesigning the icon—somewhere, I had quietly entered someone's morning habit.
A Small App Entering an Unknown Daily Life
When I make an app, I always think "I hope it helps someone." But that "someone" was vague. No face, no life, no language—nothing concrete.
Only after getting that review did I feel like a "someone" had developed a morning habit. Someone in some country who opens my app every morning. My app had quietly entered a small part of that person's daily life.
I was able to know this thanks to that review in an unfamiliar language and the translate button. It might sound a bit dramatic, but with that single tap, the meaning of the word "user" changed for me a little.
It might sound presumptuous, but I want to share something with people who, like me, continue developing.
Press That Translate Button
If you have a review in a language you can't read on your app right now. Or if there's feedback you've been putting off for some reason.
Try translating it. You might hesitate for a moment before pressing, but beyond that, there's probably the feeling of "it reached someone." It might be five stars, it might be a feature request, it might be a complaint. But any of those is proof that "someone is using it." That fact is more supportive than you might think.
Don't Hesitate to Reply
One more thing from me, who couldn't reply back then.
Even if the language is different, a simple "thank you" gets through. It doesn't have to be a perfect sentence. You can use translation tools. A small reply to someone who's using your app becomes a step toward creating a two-way connection. I didn't take that step, and I still feel a bit of regret about it. Next time, I plan to reply properly.
My app continues to accumulate modest numbers, bit by bit. But since the day I pressed that translate button, the way I see those numbers has changed just a little.
Somewhere in the world, I might have quietly entered someone's morning. With that thought, I write a little code today too.
Lily（@bokuwalily）― Individual developer. Making 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 make iOS apps and web services individually. I consult on customer acquisition, user flow design, and AI implementation & business automation.
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