Yesterday, I went shopping to buy a shirt. I got stuck between two options. One was a blue striped shirt, and the other was a burgundy-coloured shirt. I had been looking for a blue striped one for a very long time. It was nice, and my eyes were on it the whole time. The only concern I had was that it might be too tight for me. Other than that, it was perfect and beautiful. Unfortunately, there was no other size available.
On the other hand, there was a burgundy-coloured shirt that was more comfortable and more striking than the blue one. It was of better quality, and the size was perfect. It had everything I look for in a shirt.
Still, my heart wanted the blue one. So I convinced myself that if the size was okay, I would buy it without thinking about anything else. I tried it on, and as expected, it was not my size. I felt upset.
Usually, I don’t try on clothes very thoroughly in malls, but this time I made sure to check the fit properly. Somehow, that felt okay. Still, I found myself questioning it, because I knew it wasn’t completely comfortable for me, even though that shirt had everything I was looking for.
This situation feels like one of those quiet moments in life where the heart and the mind don’t speak the same language. Something we have been searching for carries a sense of familiarity and emotional pull, even if it doesn’t quite fit us the way we hoped. The attachment isn’t only to the object itself, but to the time, hope, and expectation we placed on it.
At the same time, there are other options that feel easier, more comfortable, and more aligned with our present self. They make sense, they feel right on the surface, yet they don’t stir the same emotions. This creates a soft inner pause, not a conflict, but a moment of listening to ourselves, trying to understand why some things feel right to the heart even when they don’t fully settle into place.
In the end, what did I chose? I’ll let you decide.
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