Everything and Nothing

Space: the invisible stage on which everything unfolds. Every opportunity, emotion, transaction, and even our very existence depends on space to take shape. In turn, the nature of our being is shaped by the spaces that surround us. From the city we live in to the bed we sleep in, all of it quietly influences how we approach life.

I can’t control the outside world, but my room feels like the one space that truly belongs to me. A sanctuary where I create, unravel my thoughts, recharge, reflect and return to stillness. It is a mirror of my mind, filled with things that feel like physical manifestations of my personality.

Every item in my room holds a story and is placed with care. From the art hanging on my walls to the tiniest trinkets I own, everything reflects my inner thoughts, dreams, and world. I have intentionally curated this space, allowing it to grow and change as I do. Postcards, receipts, stickers, and anything else I can collect, I never fail to bring home. Some might call it hoarding, but to me, it helps make the space feel truly mine. I feel a quiet pride when friends visit and say my room genuinely reflects who I am. This space, and everything within it, has become a part of my identity.

With that pride comes a strange vulnerability, and the moment I feel it, the most ridiculous intrusive thoughts creep in.

“What if my room caught on fire?”

“What would I save first?”

“What if I can’t save anything at all?”

“How would I bear the loss of my things?”

And most of all, “Who am I without my things?”

“Who am I?” This question reverberates with no end.

I’m aware that my fear of losing my possessions stems from the deep attachment I have formed with them. It feels a little silly to think I wouldn’t exist in the same way without my camera, clothes, jewelry, and all the other things I hold dear. Even though these things feel like part of me, I know I am something beyond them. But what exactly that is, I am still figuring out. 

I guess thinking that I have full control over my room is just an illusion after all. One small flame, and it could all be gone. Still, I will continue to invest in my space, understanding its tremendous influence on me. At the same time, I accept that my space will not remain fixed, and that change is a natural part of its unfolding. What matters most is what it is right now. In this moment, my room is my sanctuary, my mirror, my stage. It is everything to me, and yet nothing at all. Because even if it all disappeared, I would still remain.