Drop The Guns

Shoes.

Falling in love is easy. I’ve been in love more times than I can count. But when you’ve loved something for so long, falling out of it fucking sucks.

I handle breakups pretty much the same way that I handle getting rid of an old pair of shoes. Youknowthat there’s no reason to keep them, they’re ratty and old and possibly don’t fit you the best. They’re practically begging to be thrown out, I mean their fucking souls are falling to shreds. But, I hang on. I wear those things with pride and loyalty and don’t give a flying fuck what other people think. I walk with them through all of the shit I possibly can until someone either takes them away from me, or I’m forced to retire them to the back of my closet; the back of my mind.

“Now Baby, no one ever said love was easy, but you’ll be fine. You just need time.” Thing is, no one ever had a pair of shoes like me. There was goddamn history between us. They were always there for me. My best fucking friends in the motherfucking trash. How does one ever deal with that?

Now, I am quite aware that I am littering this page with pointless profanities. But if there’s one thing that I am passionate about, its my fucking shoes.

A stranger on the street called me beautiful. Sometimes I think people can just sense when you’re feeling down.