As a writer, I’m no stranger to edits, second drafts, or the temptation to soften the edges. But some things? They don’t need reworking. They just need declaring.

So, here’s a working list of things I’ve stopped apologising for—quirks, boundaries, and oddly specific behaviours included. Call it character development. Call it low-stakes rebellion. Either way, I stand by every one.

1. Not drinking the warm white wine someone poured “just to be polite.”
   I’m not wasting my tastebuds on regret in a glass just because someone shouted “Pinot Grigio!” across the room.
2. Bringing a book to a social event just in case.
   Will I read it? No. Will it make me feel safe? Yes. It’s basically a paper emotional support animal.
3. Rehearsing what I’m going to say before making a phone call—and still not calling.
   Sometimes, the performance is enough. Why ruin it with reality?
4. Not replying to a message immediately (or, honestly, ever).
   I saw it. I appreciated it. I thought of a lovely response in my head. That counts.
5. Buying the same top in three colours because I know what I like.
   Minimalist? No. Efficient genius? Yes.
6. Not watching the film everyone insists I must watch.
   I don’t want to see someone suffer beautifully in soft lighting for two hours. I’m sure it’s a masterpiece. I’m also sure I’m tired.
7. Saying “I’m tired” instead of listing the 97 emotional, physical, and existential reasons I’m low-key falling apart.
   It’s not a lie. It’s a streamlined truth.
8. Posting online and then vanishing like a moody Victorian ghost.
   Engagement? Community? I whispered something into the ether and went for a snack.
9. Repeating an outfit if I felt good in it the first time.
   If it made me feel like the main character once, I’m wearing it until it dissolves.
10. Not apologising when someone else bumped into me.
    We both know who wasn’t looking. I’m just choosing dignity over drama.
11. Keeping notes of petty things, I’ll never act on, but thoroughly enjoy remembering.
    It’s not a grudge. It’s a character study.
12. Needing an entire day to recover from being sociable.
    Fun has a cost. It’s called pyjamas and silence.
13. Being a little bit in love with my own handwriting.
    There are worse things to romanticise. At least this one doesn’t ghost me.
14. Quietly celebrating when plans get cancelled.
    I was looking forward to it. I’m also thrilled it’s not happening.

Being a writer means noticing everything, but it doesn’t mean justifying yourself to everyone. Sometimes a half-finished text, a cold shoulder, or a repeated outfit is the story. And that’s enough.