I began this by going online, as I assume most people do when they face some type of confusion or need clarity or even a sense of belonging on a journey, and I found that it’s called 'reductionism'. I’m not entirely sure that my opinions on it will fall perfectly in line with all that it represents, but I hope it at least intersects in regard to opinion.

I turn 25 in four months, and I am in a place of confusion. Of stasis that feels mandatory. A sort of existentialism that makes life feel like a whole LEGO set, with most of the pieces missing. Which leads to that persistent sense of a lack of completion. And it would be bearable if this feeling weren't all-consuming, but it lingers. It’s always there. In the quiet moments, in the happy ones. In the sad ones. In the annoyingly random moments that need to fit a picture or a puzzle.

For the past 10 years of my life, I have broken everything down into lists. I have notepads that are filled with nothing but lists. Lists of who I had to be at a given moment, lists that broke down my core desires, and lists that helped me define who I am solely through ink and introspection. And this is a major way of life for me. This breaking down, this objectiveness, that things should be looked at as separate pieces instead of a whole. However radical I consider myself, I am not immune to societal influences, so anytime I reach certain milestones, like the year ending, another birthday, or a new holiday. I am tempted to look at the whole picture and immediately shut down because of how incredibly lacking it all feels.

While I packed all my notepads into a box to begin anew, it felt like a moment to look at things again. This was not an “aha” moment or an introspection that gave way to a final goodbye to looking at the whole picture, forgoing the things that are lacking. It was more of a concession. An acknowledgement. I am who I am because I solely believe in breaking down to build up. In creation. In assembling from scratch. In a display that leaves room for curiosity. Room for more.

Tiny room for tiny things.

So I made a list of the things I want. Listing everything in an act of separation that almost felt symbolic. And this list somehow gave me a lot of clarity. I crave a lot of whimsy. Of the simple things. I’m not offering this idea in a scientific way. In a way that requires complex thoughts and even more complex concepts. An emotional breakdown is what I propose.

When life is almost empty. Tiny room for tiny things. A survival mode that is not mechanical but carefully analysed. Like introspection on a charge. It is widely more accepted to make grocery lists. Life goals. Bogus 5 year plans that overestimate the concept of what can be done over a stretch of time. I propose a breakdown instead.

A simple act of reduction. Of removal. Of stripping the outer layers. If I think I want to be happy. What are the feelings that surround this, the desires? The yearning for this feeling may be because I want to alleviate an emptiness. I strip it by layer. I analyse what it is. I look at how I feel, and I make all these lists. With a few moments passing, I'll see that many things on the list intersect. Many expressions are rooted in a singular feeling. In one desire that sometimes feels all-consuming.

If I think I am wasting all the potential. I break down where I am instead of where I want to be. What is the thing that makes me feel the most like a misuse of an opportunity?

What aspects of being a creative make me want to do more? What do I look at and think I might want to see what that looks like if I were doing it? If I tried. So for me, it moves from thinking I keep wasting all that potential to thinking I should spend a little more time creating videos that say what it is I want to express. It moves from this overwhelming burden to maybe a lot of wasted paper and simple actions. I understand that this might be a gross oversimplification, but I believe life is already complex enough. It feels like a disservice to welcome this complexity into every aspect of who I am.

So thoughts are sometimes over-analysed. Lines are reduced. Ideas become simple actions. The downside here is an unflattering romanticisation of the process. Beautifying lists and making the idea of making plans and lists the goal. So the time period between this simplification and actualisation is very short, so I can cross it off. Sometimes with the dates by the side. Like the simple list I made to make a big step. While I looked at the list again in 2025, I could see many things had been ticked off. I realise that my brain is a little different. And many people operate by different principles. But reduction is a simple way to actually do things.

If it can be done, it can be broken down.

The complexity of looking at life as a whole picture, not as separate pieces, is how overwhelm always wins. It’s how things never get done. And how creativity gets stifled the most. The birthing of an idea is a beautiful thing; the representation in real life can either exceed expectations or fall short. But the point would be that it is done. Made. Formed.

Simplifying it makes it easier and more adaptable. Giving more room to actually live.

So tiny rooms for the thoughts that keep me awake, tiny rooms for the things that feel impossible. Tiny rooms for the fun things I'm working on. Tiny rooms for the things I despise working on. Tiny rooms for the things that give me joy.

Sometimes living for the sake of a whole picture doesn't make a beautiful frame.