I've reached the age where I don't explain things anymore. You figure it out!

I've reached that age where I'm like, "Explain what? If you don't like me, go die." 😑 In the past, if I was misunderstood, I'd rush to explain: "No, no, listen to me, here's what happened..." Now, when I'm misunderstood, I just want to say: "Oh, you think I'm that kind of person? Then if you don't like me, go die." This is called maturity. It's not that my manners have improved, it's that my patience has run out. When I was young, I always felt the need to explain everything. If I argued with friends, I had to explain. If my boss misunderstood me, I had to explain. Even if a random grandma on the street thought I was wearing too little, I'd explain, "I'm not cold, thank you." Back then, I was like a 24/7 explanation vending machine, dispensing goods with every coin inserted, complete with bows and curtsies. Now? Leaving messages on read is my last act of kindness. If relatives ask how much my year-end bonus was, I reply, "Are you giving it to me?" If colleagues ask where I went on the weekend, I reply, "Wherever I went, I went." It's not that I don't know how to speak properly, it's that I save my energy for people who are worth it. Some people call this giving up. I call it energy management. Explaining for three minutes used to result in the other person believing whatever they wanted anyway. Now, by not explaining, I save three minutes to watch cat videos, doubling my happiness. So, if you don't like me, you don't have to tell me. Your dislike is your problem, not my KPI. I've reached that age – if you like me, I'm happy; if you don't, then get in line, there are many people behind you. Anyway, I'm only responsible for living now, not for making you happy. This attitude isn't being jaded, it's being a "deep-fried to charcoal" fritter – whoever touches it is unlucky, but at least no one dares to ask you to explain anymore 😎