Retail Therapy and All That Cures

Life has been challenging. They say that the rich have no aim or goal in life because they’ve reached the pinnacle of economic stability and therefore are blessed with eternal happiness. At this point in life, I do wholeheartedly agree with afore mentioned declaration. I do believe that money can buy you happiness. A new pair of shoes, lingerie and good food are always the best anti-depressants for me.

I am called a shopaholic. I completely disagree. I do not have the resources to shop as much as I would like to. Nonetheless a part of me is thrilled at this fact. As at now my conversion to consumerism is tragic, if at the availability of resources this is only bound to increase at an even more rapid pace. But then, I shop to feel good. It helps, at least momentarily. For all those out there suffering with addictions, you may not necessarily take a drag because you are depressed. It is a culture that you have imbibed in you because it is something that has happened over time. But to those who visit bars when you are depressed, you feel momentarily better eh? So what’s the matter with retail therapy, over-eating or even binge-eating? It all works on the same lines.

I believe in the motto of wanting solutions and not problems. I picked it up from a flick I watched, and it is also a frequent statement uttered by the Director herself. But then, life is all about problems isn’t it? There is always something that we strive for. A goal we have for the next five years or even for the following day. A task that should be completed today and not be put off for tomorrow. Seems like we have more common ground with the Sims than we knew.

Yet we complain. We complain at the speed of life. We complain about not having time. Yet we do not attempt at keeping up with all that progressive jazz around us, nor do we attempt at managing our time better. We continue to engage in the arts of procrastination and whining, so much so that we miss out on the times that we should be working and making the most of the time we got.

The clock is ticking. I pick out my pair of shoes while making a mental note of the song I want to be played at my funeral.



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