I pushed through the mad rush of people to a clear space. It was at that moment I saw it: the purse. It was a beautiful purse. I needed that purse. Its rosey pink fabric had caught my gaze, and the gold sequins had snatched my attention. “Oh my gosh…” I breathed, walking closer to the perfect handbag. It was love at first sight. I thought it through, and it would surely match every outfit I owned. My favorite belt matched the pink base of the bag, and the navy leather patch would complement any shade of deep blue or gray which was common to my daily wardrobe. And the gold sequins. They would go perfectly with a magnificent pair of gold sandals I had. The purse was flawless. I had never wanted anything more than that purse. Thinking maybe my grandmother would buy it for me as a late birthday gift, I nonchalantly mentioned how much I loved the purse. And then she said the words I had hoped so much to hear: “Oh, I’ll get it for you.” I was beaming as I pulled the perfect purse off the counter and walked out of the store with it. It was all mine. After admiring it a few weeks before with some of my friends, I was the first to own it. I gazed at it the whole way home from the mall. I was sure no one had ever been as fond of a purse as I was of my new one. The day I bought it, though, was nothing compared to the first day I used it. It simply made me glow. I flaunted the purse around the mall, church, wherever I was. The first week of using it, “Hey cute bag!” and “I love your purse!” were said more times than I could count. I had never been more proud of anything I owned or my sense of fashion. The purse completed my look with utter perfection, and everyone could agree on that. But, much like the immense decrease in value after driving a car off the lot, my bag decreased in appeal the more I used it. It wasn’t new anymore, I’d had it for a few weeks now. I had left gum wrappers in the pit of the bag, and had thrown it in the car countless times when I was in a hurry to get somewhere. I no longer possessed that initial attraction and desire I had before I bought the purse. It was just another bag, like the many other bags I had owned and used over the years. What was so great about it? It was just a bag. Sure I still got compliments on it now and then, but I never responded with the same animation and self-confidence that I had when it was brand new. I said “Oh, thanks,” and that was it. It didn’t even make me smile anymore to see that someone else appreciated my purse as much as I did. Because I didn’t appreciate it anymore. I had wanted that purse so desperately, and in the blink of an eye I couldn’t have cared less about it. Using that purse only made me wish I still loved it as I originally did. That purse is rather reminiscent of the dissatisfaction that things we desire tend to bring. No matter how much we want it, once we get it, much of its appeal is gone. Whoever said “the grass is greener on the other side” knew the human condition well. We always want what we can’t have, even if it is a small, unimportant thing like a purse. But nevertheless, that purse made me realize how much I think I “need” things. A certain person’s presence, a certain thing to drink. Our lives were not made to satisfy, yet all we can think about it how we are to gain satisfaction. It saddens me, looking at that purse now, because it makes me wonder: how much more will the rest of my goals and desires be worthless once I attain them?