
I always thought living with less was for Zen monks or boring people. But no. One day I realized minimalism isn’t about Nordic whiteness or empty shelves—it’s pure rebellion, just like punk rock. Yeah, because stripping down is also yelling at the system: “I don’t need your excess to be enough.” In other words: minimalism says fuck you to the noise of consumerism, just like punk did to progressive rock and its never-ending solos.
What blew my mind was realizing both—minimalism and punk—are born from the same urge: the need to take control back. While punk broke away from the elitist virtuosity of the ’70s, minimalism breaks today from visual, emotional, and material overload. It’s not about moralistic austerity, it’s an aesthetic of resistance. Both choose the essential—not for trendiness, but with wild conviction.
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That’s where I found myself: making space. Out with the ornaments, the useless apps, the dead relationships. Just like the Ramones stripped every song down to three chords and raw truth, I learned to keep only what defines me. The rest? Emotional junk. My closet, my feed, my calendar—all became battlegrounds. And with my “less but mine” aesthetic, I finally had room to think.
Let’s not kid ourselves: minimalism isn’t neutral. It’s a political choice, even if it shows up in white. Deep down, it’s the same DIY spirit that pushed thousands to form bands without knowing how to play: use what you’ve got, resist with what you have. It’s not about owning less, but making the “less” scream louder, hit harder, mean more. Because silence too can be subversive.


So when someone laughs at my empty room or my phone with no extra apps, I laugh back. Because I know punk and minimalism are uncomfortable siblings—born from exhaustion, urgency, and clarity. And if that sounds like too much, you’ve understood neither punk nor the void. So go ahead, let go. And if it sounds loud… that means you’re doing silence right.


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