SHOPPING FOR A SPECIAL EMOTIONThe rush of the crowds, the dinging of cash registers, and the instant gratification of six little words: thank you, have a nice day. These everyday bits and pieces were my way of life. Unlike everyone else, shopping for me was not just a hobby; it defined whom I was and how I was feeling at that moment. For me, shopping was an escape from situations that I could not handle. All the sounds and smells, were somehow a comfort for me.
The first memories I have growing up were shopping. Whether it had been for food, cars, or my personal favourite, clothes, it had not mattered. Close friends and family have described me as doing most of my growing at the mall because that is where I spent most of my time. It is still where I spend most of my time. My days consisted of school, mall, and then go home.
My parents worked late, so they never knew how I spent my day, nor had they cared. As long as I was home by the time they were, it never really mattered. As I grew older, nothing but my curfew had changed. My days still consisted the exact same way, but with the addition of homework. My addiction of shopping was getting worse and my bank account suffered for it.
Money meant nothing to me. I never knew how my parents worked hard to get it; I just knew that they had it. Although, I have an older brother and sister, I was by far the most spoiled one. I blamed it on being the first-born, first generation of Canada. However, deep down, I knew better. My bank account never seemed to reach zero, so I kept shopping. Every time I got an...