I used to think complexity meant progress — that the more moving parts my projects had, the more “real” they were.
Now, I see it differently. Every new dependency, every clever abstraction, every “just in case” helper adds a little friction. Clarity is the real luxury.
The Hidden Cost of Cleverness
Clever code impresses the writer.
Clear code helps the reader — and future you.
When I look back at my old repositories, I can tell exactly when I was trying to prove something. Nested conditions, smart utilities, a jungle of shorthand. I can almost hear my past self thinking, “This is elegant.”
It wasn’t. It was dense.
“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.”
— Leonardo da Vinci
Readable code is maintainable code.
It’s also kind. You’re writing for another human, even if that human is just you, six months from now.
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Design Has the Same Trap
The same pattern shows up in design. The urge to add — gradients, shadows, animations — is constant. But each addition steals a bit of focus from what matters.
Whitespace and restraint take courage. So does stopping when something feels “done enough.”
Sometimes, the simplest interface is the most elegant one — not because it lacks detail, but because it only includes what’s essential.
My Three-Rule Filter
Before I add anything — code, text, feature, style — I ask:
- Does it make the experience clearer?
- Does it solve a real problem?
- Would I still want this in a year?
If the answer isn’t a solid yes, I wait.
Half the time, the idea doesn’t survive 24 hours of perspective — and that’s the point.
The Reward of Clarity
When your tools and words are simple, the work becomes easier to share.
You spend less time explaining how it works and more time exploring why it matters.
Clarity isn’t the opposite of ambition.
It’s the shape ambition takes once you’ve built enough to know what doesn’t matter.
