They come with me on daily adventures. To new states, to new countries. Through the mud, rain, and sunshine. Enduring whatever weather chooses for them that day. Their laces once white now collect memories of days spent with friends and family. The once white accents now covered with stains of freshly cut grass. But they have never rendered to make my feet feel comfortable. The soles now worn out like my favorite stuffed animal that has been taken with me everywhere as a child. My feet now permanently broken in, refusing to let anyone in. They like me sometimes look disheveled in the early morning after a long night at work. Their black cloth material works as the perfect black dress I don’t have. These shoes that may sometimes be a struggle to put on in the early morning hours, or the shoes whose laces get tied up easily, remind me of all the things I have done. They have carried me through my adventures. They have danced to J Cole at Lollapolooza with me, they have walked miles exploring the city with friends, and danced to Beyonce with thousands in the pouring. Yet their dependence never wavered. I can count on them like a good friend I have known for years. And until my mom makes me get new ones they will be there for more football games, concerts, and time with friends because they like the perfect black dress are the perfect pair of shoes.

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