From his urges to reinvent himself came his yearn to buy. Little did he know, however, that the more he purchased, the bigger the void would get. For there were no goods which could ever fill that gap. At the end of the day, bushed and empty, bent out of shape, hollow in the depths of his soul and angry to his very core, he crashed on his couch alone, staring at the ceiling. Too tired to contemplate on his deeds, he dozed off and dreamt. He dreamt of his perfect self, surrounded by perfect selves with perfect stuff and whatchamacallits, gadgets which promised the moon but hardly delivered a sigh of happiness which lasted for more than three seconds.
He woke up feeling empty, but reckoned it was time he grabbed a bite of the perfect sandwich he'd bought at the perfect health store. He looked around at the shelves of selves and smiled a pale smile. There was nothing else but those pieces of promises for him to hold on to. The alarm went off. It was time to watch yet another installment of Big Brother.