Yeah I have lost my creativity to think of a better non give-away blog title. So let's just jump straight into the topic today. I don't sell my stuff.
Obviously I am a shopaholic. I LOVE buying stuff. I just love spending money. An unhealthy habit, I have to admit but it's what makes me happy. At least for a while before I start to realize I'm broke. Then salary arrives and lather, rinse, repeat. You know what I mean. Selling stuff? That, I suck at.
What inspired me to write about this is the many, many posts in facebook and instagram of my friends selling their pre-loved things. (Pre-loved is a newborn internet word which means used, or second-hand). From clothes to gadgets to accessories and randoms, they seem to have high confidence in selling them to friends online. Sometimes strangers too. Very business minded, these people are. I however, am strongly attached to material. And here's why.
Everything I have has a backstory. For example, a friend once asked to buy my Macbook for a fair price since I already have a new laptop, the Alienware. It didn't take me a split second to refuse the offer. Sure, I didn't need two laptops but I couldn't bare the thought of departing with the Mac. Why? Because it was a birthday gift from my parents. Selling it would be losing a sentiment.
That's just ONE backstory. Then there's my iphone 5S which I obviously didn't need. But I couldn't sell it because it was a replacement for my iphone 4s when I lost it in AEON while shopping with my parents. Immediately that day I bought the 5S, my dad paying half of it because it was indeed a sad day. Before that I couldn't sell my blackberry because it was a phone I bought for myself after sturuggling through my first job which sucked. So now I have a box full of old phones I could have sold for cash, but didn't.
The same thing goes with clothes. Every designer dress I bought was for an occasion or event. So the dresses i own come with memories. With that sort off attachment, I couldn't find the heart to sell any of it, although most of them don't fit me anymore. (Someday I'll crazy-diet to fit myself into them...someday...)
So I end up a hoarder. I have tons of crap under my bed that mean stuff to me but nothing to everyone else. So when people ask me why I don't sell my stuff, and that I could make a fortune from them, it's cause I am attached to the memories of how I bought them.
But who knows? Someday I might change my mind. I did sell a gold ring that an ex gave to me years ago. I guess some things are fine to let go. We'll see.
