Materialmystic

So when I'm feeling insecure about life stuff, one of the urges I get is to buy things. How gross is that, right? Stuff is just stuff. The only time it means much of anything is when it comes from someone else, and then it's not the thing itself that has meaning, but that it represents someone thinking of you. But even if the object is lost, the feeling and the memory remain.*

So why does a shiny new piece of junk make me feel better every once in a while?

I don't know. But you guys, I totally want this necklace.

Not as much as I want, say, a loving home for every child and a cure for every chronic disease. But still.

Okay. Until next time. Be well, everybody!


*When I first wrote "remain," I mistyped it as "remaim." The memory re-maims. May my eyeliner be revoked and The Cure albums broken if that's not the gothiest thing I've ever accidentally typed.