I have been in the state of agony for the last few days. I am in love. In love with a pair of shoes!
On the fateful day (last Friday), I was strolling home around midnight, absentmindedly glancing at the well-lit shop windows. When suddenly, my gaze was caught by a pair of expertly crafted black high-heels. It was love at first sight! I shot over and pressed my nose against the glass, drinking in every single little detail. Then, my eyes fell upon the price tag. My insides churned. “They are so expensive! No!!! Wait, I am a fully fledged business woman now, I can afford them", I thought happily. Yet I must be growing older, because I was surprised to find that a black monster had begun to rear its head. Roaring for me to be sensible and all that crap. I found it imposing some kind of masochistic ban on those shoes, which goes so far, as to me denying myself the pleasure of even IMAGINING THE POSSIBILITY that one day they could be mine. It is driving me insane! Day after day the shoes innocently flirt with the glances of predatory shoppers. Giving me anxiety attacks, that when one day the beast is finally silent (I am already hatching a cunning plan to kill it while it sleeps) they won't have my size!