👣 Borrowed Shoes, Broken Roads

Prologue: Not Every Adventure Begins with a Decision

It's not always your turn to pick out your first pair of shoes.

Occasionally, they are given to you—

worn, broken, too large—

and you're instructed to begin walking.

Before I even learned to stand, I realized at the age of eight that life would force me to run.

My dad vanished.

The God my mother prayed to never appeared.

And me?

I took a stroll.

Wearing shoes that weren't mine,

on roads I didn't select,

toward an uncertain future.

Nevertheless, I went for a walk.

Chapter 1: The Shoes of My Brother

They were too large.

The laces were torn and the soles were thinning.

But that was all I had.

And that was all he had left.

The day my brother left for "something better," he wore them.

He never returned.

So, as if I were pursuing his ghost, I put on his shoes—

He never responded to every question.

Each blister served as a reminder.

I was still attempting to fill an excessively large space.

in excessively loose shoes.

Chapter 2: It Wasn't Just Books on the Way to School

Children took notice.

The soles were cracked.

The fabric was frayed.

I walked as if I didn't belong.

Teachers referred to it as "attitude."

Bullies referred to it as "fun."

I referred to it as survival.

But I kept walking.

To

to understanding.

To the one door that didn't slam on the poor children.

I wasn't looking for perfect scores.

I wanted to get out.

And even if I were broken by the road—

I continued to appear.

Chapter 3: The Sock-Giving Girl

Meena was her name.

She caught me squirming on the sidewalk with my rain-soaked shoes.

She didn't inquire.

She didn't feel sorry for me.

She simply gave me her socks and uttered,

"Laundry was something I did last night. They are hygienic.

That's all.

Not a drama.

Only honor.

Those socks were armor for me.

Socks can sometimes be louder than words.

Chapter 4: The Work That Made Me Stronger

I swept the floors of a mechanic's shop when I was fifteen.

My hiring manager didn't inquire about my goals or GPA.

He said, glancing down at my shoes:

"You seem to understand the feeling of hard work."

I purchased my first pair of used boots on that day.

Not much to observe.

However, they belonged to me.

The road didn't seem so intent on consuming me all at once.

Chapter 5: Sending the Shoes Back

Years went by. I made it through.

learned. grew. stumbled. Rose once more.

And I once came upon a boy on a shelter's steps.

The shoes are too tight.

Too tired eyes.

took a seat next to him.

removed my own boots.

positioned them next to him.

"You'll get used to them," I said.

He remained silent.

Simply nodded.

I was certain that he comprehended.

Epilogue: We're Still Fixing Some Roads

Simply continuing to walk does not make life easy.

However, I've discovered something holy:

It's possible that borrowed shoes won't fit.

They will, however, carry you.

It might not be fair to have broken roads.

They still lead somewhere, though.

And sometimes the best strength is just not giving up.

Therefore, if you're on a road that wasn't intended for you—

in someone else's shoes,

I hope you borrowed from someone else.

Continue to walk.

Due to the fact that someone down the road

is ready to give their socks to you.

💬 Please share this story if it resonated with you. Someone is still limping toward light out there,