Shoes

    She stood there in a white dress that went straight from her sides to the floor and accentuated her curves. Her blonde layers curled to perfection and pinned up to expose the soft iridescent pearls about her neck, bringing attention to her collar bones and breast as did the sweetheart neckline of the pure white fabric of her dress. She looked at the crowd of people surrounding her, but didn't move for fear of snagging the beautiful article of clothing on the grabby hands of her friends-turned-audience. Moving a foot in any direction could cause a tear formed by ragged fingernails that tried to grip her away from the spotlight. As she stood, listening to their demeaning thoughts and hurtful criticisms, the bright smile that had once graced her face turned grim, the corners of her eyes turned down and her posture slackened. The demons she had once known as friends, who would build her up and support her, had destroyed her and as soon as they realized that there was nothing left to destroy, they left.
    When she could no longer hear the voices of those she had once cared for, she slowly but surely started to build herself up again. She changed out of her white fluttery dress and into a red midi-length skater dress with a red leather jacket over the ensemble. The blonde hair was dyed brunette and milk chocolatey, then trimmed into a bob. She stood up again. As she stood, people slowly began to gather around her and gradually became friends with her. They supported her in everything she did and told her how great she looked and what an amazing person she was. One day, someone said she should change the way she looked, that it didn't look good anymore. This led to a trend of her other so-called friends agreeing and adding onto the list of things that were wrong with her. She listened to these demeaning thoughts and hurtful criticisms until once again she had been slowly destroyed by them.
    This time, when she got back up, she changed into black torn-up shorts, a shredded black tee and a black motorcycle jacket. She cut her hair into a pixie cut and dyed it black. She threw on some beat up converse and walked away from the place that had broken her down so much, not paying any attention to those who may pretend to be her friends again.
   She finally realized that she didn't have to stand there and take all the things that had hurt her in the past; she could have laced on a pair of shoes and walked away. The shoes had been there the whole time and could have helped her but were only able to when she allowed them to assist her on her journey.