Online Shopping Confessions: Add to Cart, Leave Behind, or Spiral into Retail Therapy

It always starts with a scroll. One innocent swipe at 2:17 AM, and suddenly you’re deep in a TikTok vortex titled “Things You Didn’t Know You Needed from Am

Buy or not to buy ?

azon.” The vibe? Chaotic good. The cart? Vibing. The bank account? Already side-eyeing you.

You tell yourself it’s just window shopping. But then a panda-shaped waffle maker pops up with 4.8 stars and 12K reviews. It’s on sale. Add to cart. Next, a pastel water bottle with hydration time markers. “Hydration goals,” you whisper. Add to cart. Then comes the LED cloud lamp. “It’ll match my vibe.” Add to cart. By 3:04 AM, you’re checking out with a cart that looks like a Pinterest board curated by a caffeinated raccoon.

But the real drama? When two brands drop fire collections at the same time. Zara vs. H&M. Nike vs. Adidas. Nykaa vs. Sephora. It’s giving civil war. You spend 45 minutes comparing two nearly identical beige trench coats. One has tortoiseshell buttons. The other has a slightly longer hem. You zoom in, read reviews, stalk influencers, even DM a friend who owns both. Her reply? “They’re literally the same.” You? “No. One’s giving Kendall airport chic. The other’s giving London fog.” You buy neither. The mental gymnastics exhaust you. But the trench coat lives rent-free in your wishlist.

And then there’s the emotional math. Gen Z has mastered it. Bad day? Buy a candle. Good day? Buy a candle. Got ghosted? Buy a hoodie. Got promoted? Buy a hoodie. One time, a passive-aggressive email from your boss triggered a full-blown retail spiral. You didn’t reply. You replied with a purchase—a pair of chunky sneakers that screamed “I walk with purpose.” Did you need them? No. Did they heal your soul? Absolutely.

Retail therapy isn’t a myth. It’s a lifestyle. Dopamine comes in the form of a package with bubble wrap. And if it arrives with a “thank you for shopping” card, even better.

Then there’s the sport we all play: Add to cart. Leave behind. Re-add. Remove again. Repeat. It’s cardio for the indecisive. You once had a cart with 17 items. You were vibing with a pastel aesthetic—lavender phone case, mint green planner, blush pink tote. But then you saw a black leather jacket that screamed “main character energy.” Suddenly, the pastel vibe felt too soft. You removed everything. Then panicked. “What if I regret it?” You re-added the planner. Then the tote. Then removed the jacket. Then added the jacket again. Final purchase? Just the phone case. Emotional damage? Unquantifiable.

Influencers don’t help. They’re the sirens of online shopping. They say “link in bio,” and you follow like moths to a ring light. You once bought a skincare serum because a creator said it made her skin “glass-like.” She also had a $500 facial the day before. But you believed. You used it for a week. Your skin? Still matte. Still textured. But the bottle was cute, so you kept it on your shelf like a trophy of hope.

Another time, you bought a sweater because someone said it was “soft like a cloud.” It arrived scratchy and smelled like warehouse sadness. You wore it once. For the aesthetic. Then donated it.

And let’s not forget the packages that arrive like mystery gifts from your past self. You once ordered pastel pens during a 3 AM productivity spiral. They arrived two weeks later. You had moved on emotionally. Still, you opened them like a gift. “She believed in me,” you whispered. Another time, a neon green bucket hat showed up. You don’t wear hats. You don’t wear neon. It was a dare from a friend. You forgot about it. It arrived. You wore it once. Took a selfie. Captioned it “chaotic good.” Then retired it to the drawer of questionable decisions.

Returning items? A noble idea. But the execution? Flawed. You bought “mom fit” jeans. They arrived “mom fit if your mom is 7 feet tall.” You planned to return them. You printed the label. You even boxed them. Then the box sat in your room for 3 weeks. Then you used it to store old chargers. The jeans? Still in your closet. You call them “aspirational denim.”

Your wishlist? A chaotic masterpiece. It has a $300 coffee machine you’ll never buy. A sequined jumpsuit for a party you haven’t been invited to. A book you already own but want in hardcover. A lamp shaped like a mushroom. It’s not a shopping list. It’s a manifestation portal. Sometimes you scroll through it just to feel something. Sometimes you delete things to feel productive. Sometimes you re-add them because you’re delulu.

Online shopping isn’t just about buying stuff. It’s about the thrill, the aesthetic, the identity crisis in cart form. It’s about choosing between “clean girl” and “grunge core.” It’s about battling brands like it’s a fashion Hunger Games. It’s about finding joy in a package, even if it’s just socks.

So here’s to the confessions. To the carts we build and abandon.

To the wishlist dreams and checkout regrets. To the Gen Z chaos that makes online shopping a full-blown personality trait.

Now excuse me while I go re-add that trench coat. It’s giving legacy...