I guess this means I'm a shopaholic

"Haven't I seen you here before?"

I wasn't in a seedy bar. This question wasn't asked by a drunk trying to get lucky. No, this scene played itself out in an Aldo store.

"Yeah, I know I've seen you in here a few times recently." The sales guy has an "Aha!" look on his face as he points an i-know-you finger at me.

I smile, amused and flattered but eventually slightly embarrassed. He's right. I had been in that store a few times recently. What he doesn't know is I've been in an Aldo store at another location recently as well. And what only my trunk and closet know is I've been in many stores at many locations recently, each time carrying out adorable loot in my re-usable shopping bags—my sorry attempt to be altruistic amidst my self-fulfilling addiction.

Though this guy had no ulterior motive in saying what he said to me, or was probably just trying to get another sale out of me, those 6 words caught me like spotlights catch escaped convicts as they attempt a jail break.

Caught.

It all became blindingly clear. I shop so much that the sales people are starting to see me as "a regular." Not good. Not good for my closet. Not good for my bank account and credit cards. Not good period.

I smile at him, he's sweet-looking, the kind of guy I'd have a crush on in junior high.

"I guess that means I shop too much."

"I didn't mean it like that." He's suddenly embarrassed for me. Again, not good. "It's just good for us to know our customers." His explanation is plausible, but we both know it's an attempt to save face—my face.

"Well, I'm just looking today."

"Ok. Let me know if I can help you with anything."

He walks away and I look around, admiring the heels and wedges and sandals and flats. I build outfits in my head, imagining the perfect sun dress or skinny jeans or accessory that will compliment each pair. I sigh internally. I remember the stack of boxes at home. I remember my dwindling bank account and the growing balance on my credit cards. I remember the heavy feeling of guilt and remorse that closely follows the initial but fleeting feeling of exhilaration and joy each purchase brings me.

I sigh again and walk out. I have to stop. And thanks to this Aldo shoes sales guy with the cute, boyish smile, his question was just the slap in the face I needed.

My name is Carina Zaragoza. And I am was a shopaholic.

Good-bye

Another ending.

Meaning #1: something that began for the third time has ended again.

Meaning #2: something that began for the third time can continue, resulting in something different, better, happier.

#1 is reality.

#2 is fantasy.

Can I alter the meaning of something that has already happened? Can I make fantasy reality? Maybe a more important question is, do I want to? And, what does he want?

Well, it's too late for any question now. What's done is done. This is another ending. And sadly, the last ending.

Sad for two reasons.

Reason #1: I miss him.

Reason #2: I fear the loneliness.

#1 is the immediate pain.

#2 is the real pain.

It isn't so much the absense of him that pains me as much as it is the presence of no one.

I am alone. He filled that void. And I am alone.

At least these experiences have sent me running back to my one true love: writing. It fills the void like it fills a blank page like he filled me.



But whether it's writing or loving, I remain empty. And alone.

And here I sit, dwelling in this, another ending.

Option #1: Sit and fester.

Option #2: Return to him if--he'll have me.

(And this time, there is a #3)
Option #3: Live and love living and erase the emptiness with life and love and laughter and the exhiliration of it all.

#3, because the sun is waiting for me and so is life.

Good-bye.