5/27/04
When I was younger I used to always borrow my brother’s clothes. His clothes were always cooler than mine. For years I walked around literally in his shoes. Anytime I went to get shoes I just picked up size ten and a half’s because that’s what my brother wore; I’d been wearing it for years.
Then one time I went to buy shoes in downtown Brooklyn and the person at the store actually measured my feet. He gave me a look like I was crazy then proceeded to tell me my shoe size was a size 12. I remember the space, the warmth and comfort of the 12. I tried to put on the old shoe to leave the store but my foot had already become comfortable in the new one. The thought that ran through my mind instantly was “I lived my life in another person’s shoes and got used to the discomfort, I grew but my shoe didn’t.” I walked out of the store and it felt like the whole world was different, I walked taller my stride was longer and when I got home I remember looking at my feet and apologizing.
This memory hit me yesterday cause I bought some new shoes and they were size 13 and they fit better than the 12’s that I’ve been wearing for years.
There’s a message in that somewhere
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