I don't just see shoes as mere protection for my feet; to me, they are an 'Extension of Personality.' But the relationship between me and my shoe collection is nothing short of a dramatic love triangle.
First, there's the Shopping Spree Drama. When I walk into a shoe store, my eyes hunt for treasure. The moment I spot a new pair of sneakers, my heart starts pounding. And when the salesman drops the killer line, "Sir, this is the last piece," my brain's 'Savings Account' instantly converts into an 'Emotional Wallet.' I know I already own 12 pairs at home, but what difference does that make? This specific pair is clearly for 'all-purpose running/walking/dinner/party/sitting-on-the-sofa' purposes!
The real struggle begins once I get home. I wear the new shoes, walk around the house for five minutes, and then place them back in the box like a sacred offering—heaven forbid a speck of dirt touches them! And my old shoes? They stare at me from the closet and whisper: "So, we're trash now, are we? Remember when you ran five miles in us?"
The funniest part involves the Formal Party Shoes. They look gorgeous, but wearing them feels like my feet have been replaced by two solid bricks. With every painful step, they seem to be communicating telepathically: "Ha! You bought us, now suffer!" I spend the entire event discreetly scanning the room for an empty chair so I can secretly slip them off.
One day, I opened my closet and felt like all my shoes were having a heated group chat.
Old Sneaker: "Look who's here, our replacement, 'Mr. Shiny New Shoe'."
Shiny New Shoe: "Quiet, Grandpa! I'm the market ruler now."
A Fancy Heel: "I’m reserved for three events only, then back to my velvet bag."
So, if you are a 'Shoe Collector' like me, remember this: shoes don't just dress up your feet; they add a funny drama to our lives! And the next time you wear a painfully tight new pair, just smile—maybe your shoes are just having a little joke at your expense
