It’s like putting in an old pair of loafers. They fit and feel so well. I welcome it like an old friend, a familiar feeling of loneliness and anxiety. You show up with a lame excuse like old mail, and I am right back there, in the storm I feel never ends. I embrace it and dance in the shadows of what never really existed. I wear the shoes for a while, even out on new adventures with new faces, and I feel the tug at my core. I look for you in their words, their eyes. I don’t allow them to see my soul, my words are empty and hollow. Formalities aside, I excuse myself and cry alone on my floor. I will be eternally at war with what it is I now know. Pain is where I thrive and smiles no longer touch my heart. My feet grow weary in these shoes and I have to stop. I can’t though. As long as I wear them, I still carry you with me. I don’t want the storm to end, but reality and love do not coexist for someone like me. You can keep your new shoes. I hope they give you blisters.