She wears purple converse, they are not quite as white as they would be if they were brand new, but they are still clean and taken care of, like how one would take care of an aging family pet. She has so much feeling for Everything, and takes even the smallest things into consideration. Those converse are inviting and warm, like a hug from a close friend who you haven’t seen in a while. 

And he wears hi-top Jordans, which also happen to be purple. Unlike those who call themselves “sneakerheads” and are afraid to crease their shoes, he treats them normally and wears them almost daily. They are lived in, the places that they have been are something straight out of a shoe fanatic’s nightmare. He takes care of himself, but could care less about what other people think. He’s like an open book in the way that he holds himself, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Those kinds of shoes remind me of an atmosphere you would find at a coffee shop, a library, or even a concert venue before the opening act. 

Another friend of mine, she wears combat boots religiously. They are a bold statement, and she’s quite the bold person. The leather is a bit scuffed but is still holding together. The thick, heavy soles mimic her commanding presence in any room. Some may think that’s a bad thing to say about a person, but I commend her for it, she’s the one I’ll go to if something needs to be done or said. 

He wears steel-toed work boots. They are basically just like him, nice, and a pain in the ass (like when you get kicked with a steel-toe boot). He likes to act tough as nails, but in reality just wants to protect his peace. The boots are tough, with their steel toe and thick sole, but with a sole purpose. There’s nothing really else to say about them because they both are straightforward the majority of the time. 

The shoes I wear most-often are my Converse. I get a new pair a little more often than every year because of how much I wear them down. They see everything that I do, and I give them some life by writing favorite lyrics or drawing small details on the sides of them. My old pair, that I currently use for work, is literally falling apart. They aren’t so black anymore, in fact they are even turning a brownish-red on the sides from being bleached by the sun. The soles show where my feet hit on the insides because of the countless miles I've walked in them. The fabric is ripping at the seams where it hits the rubber outsides, some of the holes are pretty visible. They are just like me because I wear them. They reflect how I live my life.