Last Updated on October 31, 2024 by Michael

The Guide for Minimalists Who Hate Minimalism But Are Doing It Anyway

Minimalism is a strange concept. You get rid of all your stuff, but you end up more attached to the idea of getting rid of stuff than you were to the stuff itself. It’s like a reverse hoarding addiction: instead of finding comfort in piles of newspapers from 1987, you start to feel high after giving away your last remaining fork. If you want to hop on the bandwagon and get all pumped up about minimalism, then buckle—oh wait, you probably gave away all your belts.

Below, you’ll find a disjointed yet oddly fulfilling exploration of minimalism, because life is short, and clutter is for suckers.

Flirting With Poverty: How to Love Your Empty House

Minimalism is about owning less, but why stop at less? Let’s go for none. An empty house isn’t just a statement, it’s a lifestyle. A lifestyle that says, “I once had a bed, but I decided it was distracting me from my spiritual growth.”

Imagine this: you come home from a long day of doing whatever minimalist people do (probably silently judging others with possessions), and you’re greeted by… nothing. Absolutely nothing. No couch, no chairs, no sense of security. Just you and the echo of your decisions. It’s like being in one of those creepy modern art museums, but it’s your actual living space.

Your neighbors are jealous of your austerity, and if they’re not, just know that they’re not as enlightened as you are. Who needs a dining room table, anyway? Real minimalists eat their meals cross-legged on the floor, silently meditating on the impermanence of spaghetti.

If the idea of poverty disguised as lifestyle minimalism doesn’t do it for you, then you probably still have a TV. Get rid of it. Replace it with a plant—a single, sad, lonely plant. The kind that thrives on neglect. Now there’s some real minimalist energy.

Let’s face it, nothing shouts “freedom” quite like having zero chairs to offer your guests when they visit. It makes you feel powerful. You know, like, “Yeah, I’m the kind of person who could afford seating, but I choose not to.”

But don’t stop there. Minimalism is all about taking every semblance of convenience in your life and throwing it in the metaphorical trash (or, if you’re a dedicated minimalist, the literal trash). Remember: if it’s useful, it’s probably also a crutch for your weak consumerist habits.

You might be wondering, “Where do I put my clothes if I throw out my dresser?” Who needs a dresser when you can simply fold your two remaining outfits and leave them on the floor? Better yet, hang them on that single hook you attached to the wall. If you’re feeling extra ambitious, get rid of all your clothes and wear the same potato sack every day. Nothing is more minimalist than potato couture.

And then there’s art. You know what’s not minimalist? Having anything on your walls. A true minimalist’s art collection consists of the fading blood stains of mosquitoes that dared to interrupt their empty bliss. It’s raw, it’s authentic, and, most importantly, it’s temporary.

How to Win Friends and Influence Nobody When You’re a Minimalist

You’ve successfully purged every unnecessary object from your home, and now it’s time to deal with people. Friendship is the antithesis of minimalism—people come with emotional baggage, which is clutter you can’t store in a cute basket from IKEA. But alas, society says we need human connection, and as a minimalist, you need to make that connection as shallow and commitment-free as possible.

When someone invites you out to dinner, decline. Social engagements are just clutter in your calendar, and there’s no room for that in your empty life. Instead, suggest a minimalist activity, like staring at a wall together or taking a long walk in silence without acknowledging each other’s presence. If they’re truly your friend, they’ll get it.

Another great way to repel people is by constantly telling them how much you’ve decluttered. Everyone loves hearing about how you’ve transcended materialism and how your minimalist journey has led to inner peace. It’s a great way to weed out the people who aren’t ready for your superior, clutter-free existence.

Want to have people over? Don’t. Your house is empty, and inviting someone into an empty room will only remind them that they have, at minimum, 12 more throw pillows than you. And nothing disrupts inner peace like realizing your friends are living full, cushioned lives while you’re pretending to be enlightened in your stark, chairless prison.

In the off chance you do let someone come over, be sure to act like your minimalist choices are totally normal. Offer them a cup of herbal tea, but since you threw out all your mugs, pour it directly into their hands. A real friend will appreciate your dedication to minimizing kitchenware.

Now, for those people who aren’t on your level and still believe in silly things like comfort or joy, there’s nothing wrong with throwing a little shade their way. Anytime someone talks about buying something new, give a knowing smile, nod your head condescendingly, and murmur something about how the best things in life can’t be bought. Then get into your four-wheeled consumerist death machine (also known as a car) and drive off, but not before judging them one last time for buying scented candles.

Relationships, much like dust bunnies, tend to accumulate over time. And just like with dust bunnies, you need to sweep them out of your life every once in a while. Be brave. When you see a friend becoming too dependent, don’t hesitate to say, “You’re cluttering my energy with your emotional needs. Please leave.” Assert your minimalist dominance.

How to Lose Your Sanity and Call It Decluttering

The minimalist lifestyle isn’t just about tossing out your old VHS tapes or making your cat sleep on the floor. It’s also about mental decluttering. And by mental decluttering, I mean adopting a rigid, borderline-obsessive approach to simplifying every corner of your mind until there’s almost nothing left—just like your home.

Step one: eliminate thoughts. If it doesn’t spark joy, throw it out. Got an intrusive memory of that time you called your teacher “Mom” in second grade? Minimalize it. Repress it, forget it, declutter it. Thoughts are nothing but noise. A true minimalist brain should look like an IKEA showroom: empty, clean, and disturbingly devoid of personality.

Step two: get rid of all hobbies that involve physical objects. Do you like painting? Burn your paints. Do you play guitar? Smash it. Creative expression is nothing but clutter for your soul. You’ll know you’ve succeeded when your only remaining hobby is staring out of windows with a vacant expression.

Now, let’s address meditation. Everyone’s out here meditating with their mats, their candles, their guided apps. Gross. Minimalists meditate by sitting directly on the cold, hard ground with nothing but the sound of their own regrets to keep them company. You don’t need guided meditation. Just close your eyes and think about the void. The ultimate minimalist dream.

Be sure to mentally declutter your social media, too. Unfollow everyone. Delete your photos. Post cryptic messages about simplicity and inner peace, then delete those, too. Your online presence should be as empty as your closet—a testament to your superior, minimalist way of life. If anyone asks why you’re doing it, tell them you’re practicing radical detachment. They’ll be too confused to ask more questions.

And while you’re at it, throw out every opinion you’ve ever had. Opinions are clutter. They just weigh you down. The ultimate goal is to be the human equivalent of a white wall—neutral, nondescript, completely forgettable. Just a human-shaped container for organic, minimalist existence.

Remember, minimalism is all about simplicity. If you still have thoughts, you’re doing it wrong. Chase that perfect, minimalist bliss until there’s nothing left in your mind but white noise and vague feelings of superiority.

The Joy of Not Cooking: A Minimalist Approach to Eating

Minimalism doesn’t end with your home or your relationships. It extends into the kitchen, too. In fact, minimalism and cooking go together about as well as minimalist furniture and basic human comfort. Let’s break down how to truly strip all joy from your culinary life.

First step: throw away everything in your pantry. Spices are for the weak. Why have a spice rack when you can experience the bland, authentic taste of unseasoned sadness? Salt is a gateway spice, and before you know it, you’ll be seasoning with paprika like some kind of hedonist. Minimalists don’t do flavor.

Next, let’s talk appliances. Toaster? Gone. Blender? In the trash. Your only kitchen tools should be a single knife (which you also use as a spoon) and a single pot, because more than one pot would imply you’re cooking anything worth the effort. Real minimalists eat straight from the pot, squatting in their empty kitchen, embracing the void.

Oh, and don’t even think about using plates. Plates are clutter. Embrace the minimalist ideal of eating directly from the countertop, or better yet, eating while holding the food awkwardly in your hand. Soup? Cup your hands and sip it. Nothing says dedication like scalding liquid dripping from your elbows while you whisper “I’m free.”

As for meal prep, forget about it. Prepping meals implies you care about eating at all, which is dangerously close to enjoying life. The minimalist diet should be spontaneous, consisting mainly of whatever raw vegetables are left at the bottom of your fridge—which, by the way, should be empty enough to double as an echo chamber.

Let’s not forget about cutlery. You don’t need it. Forks, spoons, knives—they’re all just cluttering up your drawers. Instead, use your hands for everything. You’ll become one with your food, and it’s a great way to stay in touch with the primal roots of minimalism. Plus, nothing says “sophisticated simplicity” like trying to eat soup with your bare hands.

A real minimalist’s fridge contains nothing but a half-drunk bottle of tap water and a single carrot, slowly shriveling as it contemplates the futility of existence. Do you really need anything more than that? If you’re feeling particularly indulgent, maybe add a lemon, but only if you promise not to use it for anything except existential decoration.

Get Minimalist With Your Feelings: Emotionally Shutting Down

Minimalism isn’t just a lifestyle; it’s a full-on personality transplant. This means applying the minimalist ethos to your emotions. Feelings? Gross. They’re just mental clutter. A minimalist heart is clean, empty, and utterly devoid of any pesky empathy.

Sad? Throw that sadness away. Happiness? Also clutter—it’s just an attachment to worldly pleasures. Anger? Gone. Minimalism requires you to be the human embodiment of a blank canvas: no highs, no lows, just a steady, neutral monotone of quiet, minimalist disinterest.

You want to cry? Crying is for people who own more than one pillow. Minimalists don’t need the emotional release of tears. They simply let their feelings collect dust in the corner, then throw them out at the next decluttering session.

Relationships are an emotional minefield, and real minimalists know better than to let themselves get attached to other people. Love is just clutter in your heart. It’s like having an emotional junk drawer, and we can’t have that, can we? You’re better off letting go of love and aiming for a more minimalist approach to relationships—maybe just occasional nods at people you vaguely like.

Joy, too, is a dangerous thing. It leads to wanting things, and wanting things is the antithesis of minimalism. A true minimalist seeks neither joy nor sorrow, only a steady, empty, Zen-like state of nothingness—like a houseplant, but without the greenery.

Emotional minimalism means keeping your facial expressions to a bare minimum as well. Smiling is for those who hoard happiness, and frowning is for people who are emotionally constipated. The ideal expression for a minimalist is a blank stare that says, “I have transcended this petty plane of existence.” Botox helps.

At the end of the day, emotional decluttering is about being willing to shed every connection, every hope, every dream, and every fear until all you’re left with is the quiet, barren landscape of your own indifferent soul. It’s freeing, in a soul-crushing sort of way.

Minimalism, But Make It Fashion: The Wardrobe That Stops Caring

Clothing is the final frontier for minimalism. Because if there’s one thing a true minimalist loves more than not owning furniture, it’s not owning clothes. Let’s address how to turn your wardrobe into a testament to your own refusal to conform to societal expectations of looking decent.

Step one: pick a single color. It should be either black, white, or an unsettling shade of beige that makes people question your taste in fashion and life. If anyone asks why you wear the same outfit every day, say something about simplicity and then stare off into the distance like you’re pondering something profound. Really, you’re just wondering if you’ve taken this too far.

Step two: throw away anything remotely attractive. If it looks good, it’s probably too complicated. The perfect minimalist outfit should make people unsure if you’re going to a yoga class or a funeral. No patterns, no logos, and definitely no colors that could be considered “fun.”

Step three: socks? Overrated. Shoes? Just wear the same pair every day until they fall apart. The beauty of minimalism is that when your shoes disintegrate, you can just walk around barefoot and call it “connecting with nature.” Sure, you might step on some glass, but that’s just life giving you another opportunity to declutter—this time from the hospital bed.

Accessories? Gone. Jewelry? Forget it. Watches? You don’t need a watch when you’ve transcended time itself. If someone asks what time it is, just tell them time is an illusion and walk away. It’s the minimalist way.

If you really want to take things up a notch, try living in one outfit. One pair of pants, one shirt, no underwear—because what could be more minimalist than freeballing your way through life? Laundry day becomes a breeze when you don’t actually have laundry to do.

The goal here is to simplify, but also to make everyone slightly uncomfortable around you. Real minimalism isn’t about blending in—it’s about making people question whether you’ve entirely lost your sense of self, all while quietly judging their non-minimalist existence.

Conclusion