People forget that I am a necessity sometimes. They pass me by, buying pairs to match their outfits or for a special purpose. But people forget my original purpose. I exist only to hold you, to protect you. I get torn up and beaten for you, but people take more care now. Only for the ones that originally looked good of course. For one like me….one who was only made for that one purpose….I can’t possibly be treated kindly.
At the end of the month, I am always reshipped or repackaged in some way, so I can be sold. But it never happens. No matter how I am meant to be looked at, I am looked at with distain. My store’s precious customers have taste, and I cannot sway them. My one wish is to one day be donated. For one that needs me, they must treat me greatly. I can imagine now, a child picking me up, his first pair, his very own. He no longer needs to carry various burdens; I can help him up as he helps me up. The box is discarded, for my new, freer home.
When that day comes, I will be so eager. Whoever picks me up I will dedicate my life to. I am what I always will be, no matter what happens. I will carry on my name with pride, as I hope they will as well. I am old, but fresh and clean, and I have a dream. I am a shoe.
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