Maybe I’ll Regret This Someday

Knowledge doesn't disappear when you share it. If anything, explaining it forces you to understand it better.

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There is something slightly funny about me.

If someone asks me,

“Can you help me with this?”

My answer is usually:

Okay, sure.

I don't always think about whether they helped me before.

I don't calculate whether they will return the favor.

Sometimes I'm already annoyed. Sometimes I'm busy. Sometimes I genuinely don't want to do it.

And somehow, I still end up helping.

Maybe I'll regret that someday.

I don't know.

But this isn't really a story about being a good person.

I'm not trying to make myself sound like some kind of saint. I'm definitely not Gandhi ji, and I don't think I'm mature enough to sacrifice everything for everyone. 😂

I'm just trying to understand something I've been thinking about for a long time:

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I Was Once The Person Asking

Before I became the person people asked for help, I was the person asking.

When I started learning to code, I didn't know much.

I learned through multiple places and communities:

• 🎥 YouTube Tutorials & step-by-step guides
• 📦 Open-source GitHub Repositories & codebases
• 💬 Telegram Communities & developer group chats
• 📖 Official Documentation & forum posts
• 🤝 Kind developers who took a few minutes to explain tricky concepts

A lot of what I know today exists because somebody else decided to share what they knew.

Sometimes it was a huge explanation. Sometimes it was just one small answer. Sometimes it was a repository. And sometimes it was a random message that helped me break through a problem I'd been stuck on for days.

The person helping probably didn't even realize how important that small gesture was for me.

That's something I've never forgotten.

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People Helped Me More Than They Probably Realize

There was one developer early on who taught me how to connect a GitHub repository.

It sounds incredibly small now. But at that time, it was a total mystery to me.

They could have ignored me. They could have said:

“Figure it out yourself.”

Instead, they took out time and explained it to me step by step.

I never really got a chance to talk to that developer again, but that small act of patience stayed with me forever.

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Reconnecting With The Developer Behind Emilia

There was another developer who had a massive impact on my early journey.

That was ArshCypherZ, the developer behind ArshCypherZ/Emilia.

Back then, I found the Emilia repository and eventually forked it.

That became one of the foundational steps in my journey of building Telegram bots and learning how open-source projects actually worked under the hood.

To me, Emilia isn't just another GitHub repository. It became the exact starter project I recommend to almost everyone I help when they ask how to build bots or get started with code. The work he published years ago ended up helping not just me, but scores of beginners I passed it forward to.

Recently, I found ArshCypherZ on LinkedIn.

I wasn't even sure if he would remember me or know who I was. I messaged him anyway.

I basically told him that he might have forgotten me, but I hadn't forgotten him, what his work meant for my journey, or how many beginners I've recommended Emilia to over the years.

We had a small conversation. Nothing dramatic happened—just a quick, genuine exchange between developers.

But it genuinely made my day.

It reminded me of something I've started understanding more as I get older:

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I Was 13

There is another part of this story that still makes me think.

When I was around 13, quite a few people online assumed I was a college student.

I was actively teaching people:

• 🤖 Telegram Bots & automated workflows
• 💻 Core Python & programming concepts
• 📚 Libraries & API integrations
• 🚀 Onboarding beginners into tech

I didn't really correct everyone immediately. For about a year, some people interacted with me thinking I was older.

Then eventually, I told them my actual age.

I was 13.

And something strange happened. For some people, the way they talked to me changed.

Not everyone. But some.

And I started wondering:

“Would they have listened to me the same way if they knew I was 13 from the beginning?”

Maybe yes. Maybe no.

Maybe some people simply respected what I knew. Maybe others unconsciously associated knowledge with age.

I don't really know. But it taught me something important:

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What Took Me Years, I Sometimes Give Away In Minutes

This is probably one of the strangest parts.

Some things took me weeks to understand. Some took months. Some took years.

I searched for answers, broke things, fixed them, read documentation, copied code, realized I didn't understand it, and then tried to understand it properly.

And now someone can come along and ask me about the exact same thing.

And I might explain it in five minutes.

Sometimes I wonder:

“Was I wasting all that time?”

I spent so long learning something, only to give the answer away almost immediately.

But I don't think it was wasted.

The five-minute explanation doesn't contain the months I spent becoming capable of giving that explanation.

The answer might be five minutes. The understanding behind it wasn't.

And when I share something, the knowledge doesn't disappear from me. If anything, explaining it forces me to understand it better.

So I stopped thinking of it as giving something away. Maybe I'm just passing it forward.

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But Sometimes People Make You Question It

Of course, it isn't always that simple.

I've spent hours explaining concepts, editing files, sharing templates, debugging projects, and helping with random non-coding favors too.

And sometimes those same people eventually forget. They move on. Some are doing really well now. A few are still in touch. Others probably wouldn't even remember half the things I did.

And honestly? That's okay.

What hurts isn't necessarily that they forgot. It's when they turn around and say:

“You don't share anything.”

That's the part that makes me stop for a second. Because sometimes I think:

Really? After everything?

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Then It Happened In School Too

Recently, something similar happened at school.

A classmate told me he had made a website. I asked what AI he used.

He didn't want to tell me.

His reason? He claimed that when he had asked me something before, I apparently hadn't answered him.

I genuinely don't remember that conversation. Maybe I didn't answer. Maybe I forgot. Maybe there was some other context.

But what made it funny was that I had helped him with other things before:

• 📝 Content editing & formatting
• 🎨 Templates & design assets
• 📁 Various bits of project work

And somehow the conclusion became: “I don't share.”

I just smiled. Not because I thought I was better than him, but because I realized:

Well... at least people eventually show you how they see things.

People don't always have to be villains for you to learn something from them. Sometimes they're just people. Sometimes they remember things differently. Sometimes they're selfish. Sometimes we're selfish too.

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I've Been Called Useful Too

There are people who don't necessarily care whether I come or not. But when they need something, they know who to ask:

• ✏️ “Can you edit this?”
• 🎟️ “Can you book this?”
• 🛒 “Can you buy this?”
• 🛠️ “Can you help me fix this?”

And if I say no, sometimes the response isn't even “That's okay.”

It's more like:

“But you said you'll do it. Why can't you?”

Even when I'm annoyed, I have this habit: I'll still try to arrange an alternative. I'll still figure something out so they aren't completely stuck.

And the funny thing is, I don't think I've received that same kind of effort back from many people.

That's probably the part that hurts. Not the work itself, nor the lack of credit.

It's realizing that some people only notice your effort when they need it.

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Being Useful Isn't The Same As Being Valued

I've had to learn that distinction the hard way.

I can help someone. I can also say no.

I can share something. I can also keep something private.

I can give advice. I can also decide that I don't have the time or energy today.

Those things don't make me selfish. I'm still learning that.

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I Used To Ask For Credit

When I was younger, I cared about credit more.

I remember creating a module and asking people to give me credit when they used it. Looking back, I don't think that was wrong—I had made something, I was proud of it, and I wanted people to know.

But eventually I stopped caring so much.

If someone uses something I made and it helps them, fine. They don't have to mention my name. They might forget who created it, modify it, or use it somewhere completely different.

That's okay. I made it because I wanted to make it. If it became useful to someone else, I'm happy.

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Maybe I Give Too Much

Still, sometimes I wonder whether I'm going too far.

Because there are things I've worked really hard to learn, and I give them away easily.

Sometimes I spend an hour solving something for someone who won't remember my name a year later. Sometimes I help someone who might eventually become much better than me.

And sometimes I think: Am I making a mistake?

Maybe. I don't know. But I don't want to become bitter because of it.

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I Know Someone Who Chose The Other Way

I've met people who are much more talented than me—people who excel at academics, sports, music, and pretty much everything they try.

One person I know once said they didn't want to help people anymore because someone they taught eventually moved ahead of them.

I understand why that would hurt. If you teach someone everything you know and they eventually surpass you, it can feel strange.

But I don't want to live like that.

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Sometimes I Ask Myself If I'm Like That Too

Sometimes someone behaves badly and I immediately think: Why are they like this?

Then later I ask myself: Have I done something similar?

Maybe not in the exact same situation, but somewhere else. Maybe I've ignored someone. Maybe I've been rude or selfish without realizing it.

It's easy to judge other people's behavior. It's harder to ask whether you have behaved the same way.

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Helping People Doesn't Mean Forgetting Yourself

I don't want this post to sound like “Always sacrifice yourself for everyone.”

No. That's not what I believe.

I'm not someone who can give everything to everyone, and I shouldn't have to.

• There are things I don't share.
• There are things I keep for myself.
• There are times when I genuinely don't want to help.
• There are people I need distance from.

Learning to say no is something I still need to get better at, because being helpful can easily turn into being too available.

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The People I Helped Don't Owe Me Anything

If I help someone, do they owe me something? No.

If I teach someone something, do they owe me a favor? No.

If I help someone build something and they become successful, do they owe me credit? Not necessarily.

The moment I start keeping track of everything I've done for people, helping becomes a transaction. And I don't want:

“I did this for you, so you have to do this for me.”

That's not why I started.

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I Still Say "Okay, Sure"

This is probably the funniest part.

After everything I've talked about here... if someone messages me tomorrow and asks:

“Can you help me with something?”

I'll probably still say:

Okay, sure. 😂

Maybe I'll complain about it later. Maybe I'll say I'm never helping again. Maybe I'll stare at the message for five minutes wondering why I keep doing this.

And then I'll probably help anyway.

Because somewhere along the way, helping became part of how I learn too. When I explain something, I understand it differently. When I help someone solve a problem, I discover something new.

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Maybe That's What Learning Really Is

I used to think learning was just about collecting technical knowledge:

• Learn Python
• Learn Databases (SQL / MongoDB)
• Learn APIs & web protocols
• Learn Git & version control

But learning is also about what you do with what you've learned.

1. Knowledge Acquired: Someone taught you or shared a resource when you knew nothing.
2. Skill Built: You spend weeks or months breaking things and figuring out how they work.
3. Knowledge Shared: You pass it forward to someone struggling with the exact same issue.
4. The Ripple: They teach someone else, creating a chain that extends far beyond where you can see.

You might not even know where the chain ends. I like that.

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I Don't Want To Measure My Life Like That

I've started realizing that there are two ways I could look at all of this:

:::

I think I prefer the second version.

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What People Have Actually Taught Me

The funny thing is, the people I've helped have taught me just as much as any course or documentation:

• ⏳ Patience: Learning how to explain things simply without getting frustrated.
• 💔 Disappointment: Learning how to handle ungratefulness without losing your values.
• 🛡️ Boundaries: Realizing when availability turns into being taken for granted.
• 💙 Kindness: Giving without attaching invisible strings or transaction terms.
• 🔍 Self-Reflection: Asking whether I've ever treated someone the way others treated me.

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So... Will I Regret This?

Maybe I'll regret this someday. Maybe I'll look back and think I gave too much, wished I'd said no more often, or realized I was too available.

I honestly don't know.

But there's something I do know: I don't want to become someone who stops helping because helping didn't always come back to me.

Everything I know came from somewhere: a tutorial, a repository, a developer, a friend, a stranger, a random conversation.

If someone I helped forgets me, that's okay. If they never give me credit, that's okay. If they move ahead of me, that's okay.

I don't help people because I expect them to remember my name. I help because I remember what it felt like when someone helped me.

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Final Thoughts

Right now, if someone asks me:

“Can you help me with this?”

I'll probably still say:

Okay, sure.

Maybe I'll get better at saying no when I need to. Maybe I'll learn to protect my time better.

But I hope I never lose the part of me that wants to help.

People may forget me. But I hope they don't forget what I did for them. And more importantly, I won't forget what I did for others.

Do you think I'm making a mistake? I don't know.

Will I regret it someday? Maybe.

But I doubt I'll regret being someone who tried to help. And for now, that's enough.

Okay, sure.

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