I lived in a 350-square-foot “apartment”. Here’s what I learned about enough

Most of the time, I’m lucky enough to live in a spacious apartment. I’ve got room to spread out, do a quick workout, work comfortably, and still have space left over.

But a few months back, on a business trip to Singapore, I found myself in a very different situation.

I rented a tiny studio—just 350 square feet. Partly because Singapore is notoriously expensive, and partly because I wanted to test myself. How would I handle it? Could I live in such a confined space without going crazy?

What surprised me wasn’t how small the place was—but how much it taught me about the idea of “enough.”

Here’s what I learned.

You don’t need as much stuff as you think

When you’re living in 350 square feet, every object suddenly matters.

Do you really need five pairs of shoes? Another stack of books you’ll “eventually get to”? A coffee gadget that does exactly the same thing as the kettle you already own?

Within a week, I realized most of what I thought was “essential” was actually just clutter. What I really needed fit on one small shelf: a couple of shirts, my laptop, toiletries, and a pair of running shoes.

Eastern philosophy talks a lot about simplicity. Living in that studio made this less of an abstract idea and more of a reality. Contentment wasn’t about what I added—it was about what I stripped away.

Space changes how you live

Here’s something I didn’t expect: small spaces force you to live differently.

I couldn’t just toss clothes on the chair (there was no chair). I couldn’t buy groceries for the whole week (there was no fridge space). And I couldn’t let things pile up (because they’d literally take over the room).

At first, it felt restrictive. But after a while, I noticed something—these “restrictions” actually improved my life. I cooked simpler meals. I cleaned as I went. I got outside more because being indoors all day wasn’t appealing.

It made me wonder: how much of our so-called freedom at home is actually just bad habits disguised as convenience?

Comfort is mostly psychological

On paper, a 350-square-foot apartment should feel suffocating. But it didn’t take long before I adapted. After the first week, the place felt… normal.

The human mind adjusts quickly. That’s why people in New York pay thousands to live in tiny shoebox apartments and don’t think twice about it.

It reminded me of a line from Marcus Aurelius: “Very little is needed to make a happy life; it is all within yourself.”

The comfort wasn’t about the square footage—it was about how I framed it. If I treated the studio like a limitation, it felt cramped. If I treated it like an experiment in simplicity, it felt freeing.

Experiences matter more than square footage

One night I was sitting on the bed, and I realized something: the small space hadn’t ruined the trip at all.

In fact, I was spending most of my time outside exploring the city, meeting people, and enjoying Singapore. The size of my room barely mattered.

Back home, I often obsess about making my apartment more “comfortable”—bigger TV, better desk, nicer furniture. But in Singapore, none of that even crossed my mind. What stuck with me were the hawker markets, the people I met, and the nights I spent walking by the Marina.

A bigger apartment won’t make your life bigger. Only bigger experiences will.

Enough is about mindset, not measurement

So what’s “enough”? That was the question the studio kept forcing me to ask.

Enough wasn’t 350 square feet. It wasn’t a certain number of possessions. It wasn’t even about money.

It was about feeling satisfied with what was there.

For me, enough was having a bed to sleep in, a laptop to work from, and the freedom to explore a new city. For someone else, it might be a garden, a library, or a kitchen big enough to cook for family.

The trap is thinking “enough” will always be found in more—more space, more money, more stuff. But often, enough is already here. We just don’t notice it until circumstances strip away the excess.

Final words

Living in a 350-square-foot apartment in Singapore taught me something that I probably already knew deep down but had forgotten: enough isn’t a number. It’s not a measurement, and it’s not a comparison.

It’s a mindset.

When I got back to my normal, more spacious apartment, I felt grateful—but I also felt lighter. I didn’t want to fill the space with more things. I wanted to protect the clarity I had found in that tiny studio.

If you ever feel like you’re constantly chasing “more,” here’s a thought experiment worth trying: put yourself in a smaller space, with fewer things, even just for a week.

You might be surprised to find that you already have enough.