In the past few years of not having to go to the office, I've spent more and more time at home, seemingly getting used to this unnecessary lifestyle of not going out. It's no wonder that the things I like are all in my room, so there's no real need to go out. Moreover, with online shopping and food delivery being so convenient, the need to go out has decreased even more.

Socializing seems to have become a burden. Perhaps its existence is inherently a burden, but it has been overlooked by the majority of people who have gotten used to this way of life. I don't know whether to thank the years of "masks" for making the drawbacks of socializing more apparent or if people are becoming more aware as they live. In any case, it's evident that the more socializing there is, the more internal friction there is. Gradually, even WeChat Moments feel like a "chicken rib".

When I'm not going out, I wear pajamas in my room, which is comfortable and simple, and easy to wash. When I need to go out, it's jeans and a t-shirt; if it's a bit colder, it's jeans and a hoodie, and with a pair of sneakers, I can go wherever I want. This combination is youthful and lively. For occasions that require formal attire, a few basic outfits are enough. However, as the internet becomes more developed, there are fewer occasions that require formal wear. When it is really needed, as long as it's not too inappropriate, no one really pays attention to whether you're wearing a suit worth thousands or something from a street vendor on Taobao.

Every time the seasons change, I need to reorganize my wardrobe, figuring out how to take out and put back most of the clothes. Occasionally, I come across a few outfits from my student days and am surprised that my figure has remained quite good; wearing them occasionally doesn't seem to raise any suspicions of trying to look younger. I just prefer brighter colors now; I guess I've gotten older.

In fact, I was quite poor during my student days, but loving beauty is a girl's nature. So, saving up my meal money to stroll around the night market near the school felt incredibly luxurious. A few bucks for a top, a dozen bucks for shoes, and a few cents could get me a big stack of hair ties—pretty and useful. Later, by chance, I visited the clothing wholesale market on Hanzheng Street, which was quite an eye-opener.

I initially liked hoodies because they were closer to the style of school uniforms. My mother would often say that if she had to compare herself to the children of poor families and her academic performance to that of top students, then when she had the chance to buy new clothes, she could only dare to buy styles similar to school uniforms so that she wouldn't seem out of place. But to be honest, at that time, I felt hoodies were like "chicken ribs," and I hated the disdainful looks from classmates who criticized me for wearing school uniforms every day, so hoodies became the most suitable compromise. Now, I can't say I like them much; I just think they're good value for money.

I remember a few years ago, corduroy hoodie sets were very popular. Although they were only a few dozen bucks, I still felt it was extravagant. I bought one after some hesitation but couldn't bear to wear it. By the time I wanted to wear it, I felt it was no longer the right season. Autumn in Beijing seems very short; just as you take off your short sleeves, you have to put on a cotton coat. So, I secretly blamed myself for "wasting" it. It seemed I also agreed with my mother’s dislike of me buying new clothes.

I remember a time when I wore my cousin's old clothes. In my mother's words, as long as they were clean, it didn't matter what was fashionable; if they could be worn, wear them, and if not, just go without. There was no need for so much fuss. I did this for several years. My older cousin still teases me for being unwilling to buy anything, saying that shopping with me is a downer. So, I rarely go shopping with her now.

I remember one time before the New Year when I bought new clothes. That was the only time I could ask my mother for new clothes with a good reason, once a year, very precious. I think it was at a Benetton store; I had my eye on a black fleece hoodie. At that time, Benetton was definitely considered a luxury brand in our small fourth-tier city. I remember that hoodie cost over a hundred bucks, and after the discount, it should have been a bit cheaper. However, as the New Year approached, the discounts were very small, just a symbolic few bucks off.

I went to see that hoodie several times and even dragged my mother to try it on several times. Even the salespeople became less enthusiastic when they saw me. But my mother still thought it was expensive, standing far away and criticizing everything about the hoodie. At first, the salesperson patiently explained to my mother, but after repeating the same thing too many times, the salesperson also got annoyed. I was probably quite naive back then, just looking at my mother with longing while ignoring her disdainful gaze.

I remember the first time I left the store empty-handed. I rarely threw a tantrum with my mother, telling her I had my eye on that hoodie, so why not buy it? Isn't it customary to wear new clothes for the New Year? Buying something I don't like is worse than not buying anything at all. My mother said then we wouldn't buy it; who said you must wear new clothes for the New Year? At such a young age, how did you learn to be so vain? I knew my mother wasn't short of money; she just thought it wasn't worth it. Why should a store with a brand name sell things so expensively?

After several attempts, under my persistent persuasion, my mother finally agreed to buy me that hoodie. But when I excitedly ran into the store with her, the right size was already gone, and they wouldn't restock until after the New Year. I was so disappointed, and my mother was smug, saying I wasn't meant to have that hoodie, so I shouldn't think about it anymore.

A hoodie trapped me for many years; every time I passed by that store, I had to walk around it until later when the store moved due to demolition, and I went to another city for school.

Later, I had several hundred bucks and could afford many hoodies, but I never bought that style again. It's not that it wasn't good-looking; I just didn't want to recall that unpleasant memory. It has nothing to do with money—hoodies for a hundred bucks, hair ties for fifty cents, a few bucks for cold noodles, bags for dozens of bucks. I could easily find happiness, but my mother just couldn't stand to see me happy.

During the years I lived with my parents, whenever I bought something for myself without her permission, she would get very angry. She would say that when she was in her thirties, her grandmother passed away, and there was no one to help her figure out what to do or not do, so how dare I make decisions on my own? Clothes, shoes, bags... could all be picked up from relatives. But what about the newspapers subscribed to by the school? What about the learning materials purchased by the school? My mother said I shouldn't be vain; why should I have what others have? If I don't have it, shouldn't I study hard? She was determined to see if I would study poorly without those things. Sure enough, her words came true.

After becoming financially independent, I would save some money to enroll in a training class, and when I saw clothes I liked, I would buy them without hesitation... buying a house, buying a car, I wouldn't let her know until it was all done.

Suddenly, I couldn't write anymore; it felt quite bittersweet. Fortunately, life has been kind to me; in the end, I will get what I want, just a bit more bumpy than others.

It's autumn again; this season, I'm temporarily back in my hometown, listening to rebirth novels on Douyin while organizing my wardrobe, seemingly in a fit of anger, getting rid of those clothes I once bought with my mother's permission, even if some are still quite handy. If this counts as a rebellious phase, I might have grown a bit late.

Looking at the empty space in the wardrobe, I initially thought of buying more things to fill it up, just like I habitually fill the fridge, which gives me a sense of security. But then I thought, since I don't go out much anyway, why waste it, so I gave up.

It seems like I lack nothing, yet it feels like I have nothing; I just feel like I'm living in a fantasy. It seems like there's nothing I particularly like, yet I always get deeply attached. So, perhaps being a little lonely is more suitable, to avoid hurting others and myself.

It's autumn now, really cold, cold enough that nightmares have increased.

The end