“You have awfully big shoes to fill with your new square footage”
More like cubic footage in New York, because we all know that every inch counts when you’re paying $1100/month to live somewhere smaller than the home 1500 miles away who’s outright worth is less than the down payment I’d have to pay for a place in the big city.
Every move I’ve made has been a stepping stone, and though my pace ceased to a crawl at points, I learned to jog steps further every day. 1 mile became 3 miles became 5 miles became 7 miles, and somehow I’ve ended up 965 miles from where I began. It’s no wonder my shoes are worn, but my sole remains as in tact as ever. “They” say that leather increases value with age, and the rivulets forming under my feet as my numbers grow will continue to dictate my future to some, though I’m sure my present wrinkles skin surfaces causing quite the contrary.
Making strides took quite a bit longer when I wasted nights stumbling home and skipped the intimacy that encouraged leaps of faith like this. Before now I fear that I wandered in circles because my internal compass navigated me towards all of the wrong directions. It took investing in someone on a course to recognize that I had been going nowhere fast.
It’s no wonder I have to stretch to get these legs kicking, my tendons have been aching for a running partner, and if I’ve ever been assured of anything, it’s that I’ll never get another pedicure.