My Company, the Four White Walls
I’ve got four white walls and a white ceiling. They are currently my closest friends. The ones I stare at blankly at the start of my day and the ones that comfort me in the dark during my sleepless nights. My white walls and ceiling aren’t spotless －just like my mind, but they shelter me from the heat, the rain, and the judgmental eyes. They afford me privacy in my solitude and keep me company when I have no one to see or nowhere else to be.
At times though, my white walls confine me like a prison. Not for the lack of a door key, but for all the “she’s always alone”, “she has no friend” and “she has nothing to do and nowhere else to be” that I always imagine in people’s minds when they see me. It is silent within my four white walls, and sometimes, silent within my mind too. Sometimes.
Growing up in a society that favors extroversion, I have been told many times that I need to change in order to fit in. To blend in. To succeed. Each time I try, the result was different. It could be absolutely lovely, but could also be purely pretending which is soul-sucking －depending on the company. I wouldn’t say I am antisocial, even though at times I appear to be. I’ve got friends I rarely see and a family away from me. Those that are always with me, as you can guess, are the four white walls.
So am I free? Am I happy? I sometimes ask those questions to the ceiling and four white walls. After all, they witness my laugh and my silent cry. They see me dressing up and trying to look pretty. They see me before I put my mask on for the world to see.
Are you happy?
I’ve long learned that there are nineteen types of smiles but only six for happiness. Living in a society that takes pride in its hospitality, a smiling face equals friendliness and that is what’s expected out of me. I used to have no problem with it until one day I saw my eyes and noticed the glow wasn’t reflected on them. Your smile wasn’t genuine, they said. It wasn’t difficult to fake a smile, but how was I supposed to fake happiness within me?
Within my four white walls, I am free to be me. Free to jump into the air and dance like crazy when I feel like it, and in a completely different scenario, I am also free to curl up in a fetal position and sob. Free without anyone but myself to judge me. Or to pity me.
When I was a little kid, the adults always asked me what do I want to be when I grow up. My answers changed almost on yearly basis, from a designer, an architect, a novelist, an actress, a doctor, and a couple of other things until one day, as a teenager, I decided to just answer “I want to be happy”. Year after year passed and then I, as an adult, learn the hard way that happiness isn’t as black and white as I once thought it is.
As an adult, I learned the struggle of paying the bills and taking care of my mental health. I got to know heartbreaks and found skeletons in the office closets. I learned that success isn’t a linear process, but failure shouldn’t define me. I revisited my old dreams and found some are now dead, but that too is okay, because we have changed.
So back to the original question, am I happy? My four white walls didn’t budge when I asked that (of course!), so I guess it’s only me who can answer. I guess I am, but just like the moon, I also have my phases. I learned, however, that happiness is really about the “being” and not the “doing”.
What about you, by the way, are you happy?
What do you do for a living?
I breathe the oxygen, eat my food, drink a lot of water, catch up on sleep when I can, take a walk in nature, explore new things and places, practice my hobbies, socialize when there are people to meet, and otherwise take refugee within the four white walls. Does that sound like an acceptable answer? Maybe, but not usually.
After trying out different occupations in different fields over years, I try to detach my identity from my work －at least a little. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to work or don’t want to open up to people about me. Truth to be told, my main problem with the question lies on an entirely different issue: not all do, but still, too many people decide how much respect they should give you based on your occupation and approximately how much money you’re making. What a world we live in.
Don’t get me wrong, I am guilty of this too sometimes. I didn’t put enough effort to get to know the names of the janitors in my old offices or all the service staff yet they had to know mine because I was one of the managers. Yet sitting here alone on my bed, within the privacy of my four white walls, I think “does that even matter? After all, none of these positions will last.”
Once they are over and you close a chapter in your life, what do you want people to remember about you?
The circle and the square
This long-delayed post was written over the course of a few weeks (with long pauses, as you can guess). I turned a whole year older in the meantime. When I was a schoolgirl, my entire classmates were my friends. When I was an office worker, my circle revolved around those I worked with and some other friends that come and go. Once I left the old routine, I noticed my social circle shrunk even further because I no longer meet the same people on a regular basis. At some point, the circle turned into a square.
Yep, the four white walls again.
Doesn’t the loneliness drive me crazy? Sometimes, absolutely (but at least it is concealed within the walls). Not always though, as being alone doesn’t always mean being lonely. During the two years plus of the pandemic, not leaving home was normalized and suggested. Yet once things got a little better, the busy bees and social butterflies are also back in the spotlight, and those who seem to be always alone and “stuck” within the walls are back to being the losers. Or at least the boring ones.
My square, however, would never judge me.
The voice in your head
When there is no noise in the background, the voice in your mind is the only one you hear. Sometimes it is loud and clear, the other times a quiet mumbling sound. Within the shelter of my four white walls, I listen to mine frequently. I converse with myself like the loony that I am, I reflect on my past and speculate on my future. I found a whole universe in my mind, invisible to anyone but me.
Sometimes my mind is a terrifying place to be. The other times, it is exactly where I need to be. After all, in a world full of voices, the one you need to listen to the most is your own.
Sometimes I am still afraid to be alone. I am afraid to miss out on things and end up forgotten, but most importantly, I am afraid to be left behind. The other times, I remember we make our own paths and no life is truly comparable to the other. Either the frequent self-reflection is another sign that I am getting older －or just have too much time alone with the four white walls.
To home
People say home is where your heart is. In this sense, my four white walls feel like a stopover, not the destination. Not home. One day, I will leave. One day, I will need to step out into the big scary world again and continue my journey. One day, I will travel a great distance away from my four white walls.
But today, I’ll stay around. Right now, I’m gonna lean against my white walls. My company.
