I just splurged for a Sublime Text license. It has been my workhorse for a couple of years now. I am ashamed to admit it took me this long to pay for it.

Sublime Text has this sneaky business model. You can download it and use it forever. There’s no forced expiration date. Just a gentle reminder popup that appears every few saves. “Hey, you should probably buy a license.” Click dismiss. Continue coding. It’s like having a really polite landlord who never actually demands rent.

In 2025, everyone talks about VS Code. It’s free, it’s powerful, but it’s also built on Electron. That means it’s slower and heavier than it needs to be. Sublime Text just works. It opens instantly. It handles large files without breaking a sweat. Then there’s the plugin ecosystem. I can transform it from a simple text editor into whatever I need. Want a debugger? There’s a plugin. Need advanced Git integration? Covered. It’s like having a Swiss Army knife that keeps growing new tools.

Here’s the thing about using great software for free. It starts to feel weird after a while. Every time that purchase reminder pops up, there’s this little voice in your head. “You use this thing every day. You depend on it. Maybe you should actually pay for it?” The guilt builds up slowly.

Sublime Text is made by a tiny company. They’re not backed by Microsoft or Google. They survive on license sales from people like me who eventually do the right thing. When I finally clicked “buy license,” it wasn’t just about legal compliance. It was about recognising value.

The license cost $99. For a tool that I use constantly and that just works without drama. I should have done this years ago. But better late than never, right?

If you’re reading this while dismissing that Sublime Text purchase dialog, maybe it’s time. The guilt relief alone is worth the price.