I saw this picture today and it triggered my addiction.
I vaguely recalled seeing these shoes online somewhere and being crushed that they were sold out in my size. But now I had to go look for them again. And this time I found a pair.
There were 290 Euros, which didn’t seem too bad. I put them in a cart and started filling in my details. I was wondering in the back of my mind how I would pay for them, but I told the back of my mind, Big deal, I’ll use the credit card I was planning to stop using.
The total came to $425, after shipping and some crazy tax. Now I was really struggling. Fuck! That’s a lot of money! I started looking for the shoes again, hoping to find a better price.
The shoes were like a dazzling promise of perfect eternal happiness. If only I had them, I would be the coolest person ever. All those buckles would be a hassle, but once on my feet, the shoes would make me an indestructible goddess and paragon of stylish allure. In fact, they are very similar to some shoes I already own and have worn ONE TIME.
By the grace of god (i.e., a sense of guilt) I was able to resist buying the shoes until chatting with my sponsor, who typed these words:
i will kill you! those are like your acne sandals– DON’T REPEAT BUY!!
What a relief. I didn’t buy more shoes. I have no illusions that this won’t happen again, though. Shoes are a fucking illness that make no sense. If I changed the word “shoes” to dope, I think this would be a story told in AA or NA a million times every day.
Shoes are an empty promise. And this makes me either mad or sad; I’m too much of an addict to distinguish one from the other.