Shopping Blues Caused by the Met Gala

The ways we torture ourselves are numerous.

Like when you buy that chocolate bar and place it on the dining table.staring at you. Mocking you. Calling your name while you sleep. Whispering how good it tastes.

“I will not eat the whole of that in one go!” You tell yourself before you go bananas bonkers on the chocolate bar in the middle of the night when no one is watching..

Or when you watch the angels, feel guilty because you are a feminist jaa, I am totally projecting! and swear to stop objectifying women. Until next year because you are totally hooked.

So, I watched the Met gala and had all these awful wonderful exhilarating depressing feels.

Should I get a new pair of sandals? You know, like Rihanna’s?

Should I get a new gala dress? For that gala I am invited to in 2031 when I am rich & famous? As if that would ever happen to me who cannot save if life depended on it.

Should I or should I?

So I went shopping today. For whatever.

While I shopped, I wrote this in my phone: Shouldn’t shopping effing make me temporarily happy?

You were sad, deeply miserable, before I had a chance to hurt a fly,

You were angry, constantly pissed, before I had the ability to create anger,

You were rolling down the stairs, down the hill, bumping your poor head before my hands could push a barrow,

You were weeping, heartbreaking sobs, disturbing wails, before I broke any heart,

You were fragile, almost broken, before I put my hands out for a hug,

You were disconnected, totally broken, before my looking straight at you was a demand for attention, for action, for approval, for love,

You were sleepless, nagging insomnia, before I started nagging,

You were without friends, unloved, before I started looking for elsewhere love,

You were stressed off your wits, depressed, before I was more than fetus,

You were depressed, untreated & suicidal before I saw the first boy I liked,

How is it then possible, that I felt like I caused it all?

The blues.

The violence.

The anger.

The cold.

The heat.

The storms.

The loveless-mess.

The laughter.

The separations.

The abandonment.

The pain.

The love.

The laughter.

The tears.

The sleeping.

How is it then possible, that I felt like I caused it all?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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