Who uses a compass anyway?

Today I put on an old pair of shoes and was forced to remember all the things I felt when I first wore them.

I got these shoes in the height of middle-school angst and I was sad. More sad than I feel comfortable sharing on the Internet. And that sadness led to a bucket full of insecurities that I hid behind nonsensical commentary and dozens of rubber bracelets. I hid behind shouting and being goofy to mask the silence I felt within myself. It was an unexplainable and unavoidable sadness. Tying up the laces on these old Steve Madden want-to-be skater shoes brought me back there. In these shoes, I cannot help but feel as flat as the soles I am walking on, as flat as I once felt. Furthermore, if it is so easy for me to relapse to the sadness I once felt, am I even happier at all? We are only as good as our lowest points and I can still feel just as low as I once did.

In old shoes, each step forward is like two million steps backward.

Luckily, however, I have new shoes now. And although they are no Cinderella-glass-slipper of a perfect fit, these shoes suite me better. But I cannot find it in me to get rid of my old kicks, or, for that matter, anything that reminds me of the unhappiness I once felt. And sometimes, like today, I am tempted to slide back into my old shoes because they are well worn in and easier to walk in.

Today, I'm heading backwards.