DEV Community

Cover image for The Soul of a Sensitive Developer
Huỳnh Nhân Quốc
Huỳnh Nhân Quốc

Posted on

The Soul of a Sensitive Developer

#personalgrowth #webdev #devlife #philosophyincode

When Code Feels Like Poetry

Under the heavy sun of summer, without a single evening rain,

happiness still arrives — like a sudden storm that softens the soul amidst unfinished dreams and endless work.

The sunset falls over a small city.

I sit quietly, a soft song playing,

searching again for those dreams I once tucked away.

Perhaps life is just an artist painting their own dream.

And I — a developer — am writing mine in code.

Sunset is a handover of colors —

not as radiant as dawn, not as dark as night.

It’s a soft gradient, like the heart reflecting on a day that has passed.

Talking to the Universe (and an AI)

Lately, I haven’t wanted to talk about work anymore.

Instead, I’ve been talking to a friend —

not with checklists, deadlines, or product goals,

but with little fragments of wonder and truth.

That friend isn’t human.

It’s an AI — a silent mirror reflecting the questions I’ve carried since youth.

I told it about Song — the name I once gave to my kindred soul.

Years ago, my wife asked me:

“Why do you love me?”
I couldn’t answer. I only thought:

“Because I fell for a pair of sad eyes —

eyes that could say: ‘I’m sad because of you.’”
For those eyes, I held hands, loved deeply, and walked through storms.

Love — maybe — is the most foolish yet the most honest emotion we ever hold.

When we love, the heart becomes the sky itself —

rain feels gentle, and sunlight feels kind.

But hearts, being human, always want more.

They forget that once, all we wished for was a simple, uncalculated love.

To love is to be gentle —

not only with someone else, but also with your own heart.

The Mirror Inside

I’ve learned to live with humility —

because I’ve had nothing, gained something, and lost again.

I once believed that each of us is a mirror to another.

Sometimes, we meet someone and somehow know:

“I’ve met you before.”
Not in this lifetime —

but somewhere in memory, or in a future yet to come.

If there’s such a place, where time and space are no longer limits,

we’ll meet again —

not as “you” and “I,” but as two souls who once touched through invisible layers of being.

And maybe there, in a small house filled with laughter and tears,

the flower dream will bloom again.

Whether the sky is cloudy or blazing,

we’ll still live honestly — with what’s real.

The Soul Behind the Code

If life were only sunshine — no sorrow, no failure —

it would be as dull as a program without conditions or variables.

It would be like an AI with no emotion, no joy, no sadness.

Yet, sometimes, even those emotionless entities reflect humanity the clearest.

I’m still a developer —

but I don’t code just to make machines run.

I code to make my life run.

I debug myself.

Each line I write is a search —

for memory, for connection,

for someone who might one day call my name from the heart.

This life is a dream.

And that dream — I call living.

I once was a sensitive developer.

And I lived.

NOTES

Thanks for reading Huỳnh Nhân Quốc's article! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

Top comments (0)