Since she was 17, she’s had two pairs of shoes. She’s never had the chance to choose which pair to wear or when they’d come on and off. Sometimes, no matter which pair she wears, they get so tight that they form indentations on her skin.
The first pair of shoes have walked miles and miles without being changed. They stink, they are worn down to the soles, and have stuck to her feet like glue. They cause blisters to form and although she seeks comfort with each step, pain continues to meet her at each corner. These shoes are too tight to be removed. They have grown around her foot and rooted themselves in her body.
Depression sticks around like that when you’re bipolar.
Remember that other pair I told you about? She never knows when she’ll get to wear them, but when she does, it’s like she is the best version of herself she could ever be. They are stilettos covered in red sequins and confident grandiosity. When they are on her feet, they act as a horse and carriage, helping her to make one hell of an appearance wherever she goes. They are like ruby slippers that whisk her off to the Emerald City where parties are thrown in her honor. They’ll send her off on a private jet to Hollywood and land on the red carpet. Everyone will want to be her and she’ll know exactly what to say and do. Nothing can stand in her way.
The unfortunate thing about these lovely slippers is that at some point, that damn wicked witch rolls through the party and tosses her back into the tornado. She goes straight from the red carpet and down to the dark streets on skid row.
Her poor feet tend to spend most of their time in the broken down sneakers. She yearns to be greeted with that damn glass slipper and until then, her ugly step sisters stand above her – pointing and laughing as she tries with all her might to cut away the canvas from those worn sneakers.
She will keep walking, regardless of the shoe. She will run when she can and rest when it’s possible. No matter how many miles are ahead, she’ll keep going, regardless of the terrain or the shoes she wears.
And I will be running with you! Well, actually behind you…slower…due to my age…and lack of ability…but rooting for you with each step! Live you!!!
Sent from my NOOK
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We can shop for some cute active-wear so that we look good while we’re running. Maybe there will be ice cream at the finish line? Thanks for the support! Live you!
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