Sunday, 13 November 2011

"Magic Boots"

Lately I can't tell if I'm actually being a horrible person or that I'm just stubborn. While shopping with my parents last weekend (a treat I don't get to experience very often), I acknowledged that on top of being a stubborn arse, I'm nearly incapable of changing my mind in a short space of time.

For example, I wanted a new pair of boots. I'm a nightmare to shop with - I either want everything or will refuse the most beautiful pairs of shoes because they're not directly similar to the specific design of a pair I've cooked up in my mind (which, to be fair, probably don't even exist in the first place). In this case it was the latter - I decided that I wanted a new pair of winter boots and that they would be a major investment instead of something trivial I'd pick up for £30 and would wear out in a month. In the whole of York I spotted two pairs that I loved.

One pair were in a rich chocolate brown, and would go with everything. The others were jet black and covered in laces - and I loved them purely because they were a work of art. Thus began a little battle in my head: should I make a sensible choice or blow my money on the beautiful pair?

Of course it was going to be the beautiful pair. Of course it was. Nevertheless, as I was trying the brown boots on, I felt angry with myself. I should be making the sensible decision and buying these boots which go with my new coat, but, I knew I wasn't going to. It killed me.

It killed me to the point where I was actually angry when I bought the black pair. "Great, now I'm going to need a new coat, a new scarf... eventually spend a bit more money I don't have." Yet, I was absolutely making the right decision by buying the ones I loved the most. I've been wearing them with pride all weekend, staring longingly at them whenever I sit down with little hearts in my eyes, and clicking my heels together as though on top of being beautiful, they are magic boots which are going to take me to meet Dorothy and the Munchkins.

So... the point of that lengthy anecdote was that I wanted to explain how even though I was doing something brilliant, I was in a certain negative mindset about not making the sensible decision, and couldn't manage to get out of it while I did something which was supposed to make me happy. I felt the same way about a situation a bit more important than boots (yes, it's possible) earlier in the week.

It's a person. He's... back. I said my goodbyes, I came to terms with what happened and moved on. I'm sorry to say it's nothing juicy like a love affair (I'm always annoyingly happy with that sort of thing), but it's equally as important and to be honest it's screwed me right up. Am I being horrible by ignoring him? Is it that I'm just stubborn and find it hard to change my mindset so quickly? I came to terms with the fact that he'd gone. When somebody dies, that's not a bloody easy thing to do.

It's even harder to bring them back to life when they wake up.

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