Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Ripped Shoes and Recklessness

The grasshopper bought a pair of shoes for me a year or so ago. A simple and pretty pair of grey pumps (I think they were pumps, I suck at shoe classification) and whenever I wore them, I was very happy because they reminded me of the boy.

This morning as I was getting ready to leave the house, my mom asks if she could throw away my broken shoes.

"Which one?" I asked.

And she held up that same pair of grey pumps, now with a giant tear in it. Maybe I'm being melodramatic, but when I looked at how sad and broken the shoe was, it felt like that was my heart all torn up.

That now-familiar choking feeling returned, tears started welling in my eyes and I told my mom not to throw them out. Not yet.


I walked to the MRT and was crossing the road. A car is driving towards me. At that moment it felt like I was just watching myself and my first thought was that it's ok, please just hit me and take all this pain away. But the driver slowed down to let me pass, and I walked on.

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