Hands in my pea coat pockets I shuffle down 8th avenue looking down. Whenever a pair of shoes that have seem to be worn in adventure passes I lift my head to stop them.
Excuse me, Excuse me.  I ask the intriguing shoes.
I’m either met with a puzzled look, an impatience look , or a sympathetic look. Sometimes there is a look of all three
Looking at the owner of said shoes I boldly ask,Do you have a story?
Here, I can usually guess their response based on one of the three looks they gave me.
A look of puzzled usually leads to more confusion on their face expressed in lines created in their face by a furrowed brow and scrunched nose.
A look of impatience usually leads to a *******, and a cold shoulder met with an even faster pace, or a phrase along the lines of ******, Freak and more ****** phrases that I’m sure you can guess. (My favorite so far has been ******, now that’s a story)
With a look of sympathy I’m sometimes given a quick sorry followed by a cold shoulder (see example 2), sometimes a Sorry, what? Due to their actual interest in what I have to say. These looks lead to the best stories.

One rainy day I was met with lady bug rain boots scuffed around the bottom, yet still shining a bright red that I guess wasn’t even that beautiful on the store shelf, and my guess a size 2. Looking up I find wide green eyes staring right back.
Now this was no look of the three I’ve experienced, it was a whole new look.
A look of curiosity, but not puzzled.
A look of eagerness, not impatient.
A look of care, not sympathy.
And so many more looks hidden in those big green eyes that seem to hold the world.

Though I was aware of the tiny feet, I was mildly surprise when I was met with those green eyes at an almost 2 foot level.

Excuse me, excuse me, Do you have a story?
The ladybug boots with green eyes smiled at me.
Everyone has a story, but I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you.

Walking in a forest of naked trees, stripped of their leaves too soon, shivering in the wind.
Cold soil beneath my curled toes seeming to pull me under.
Pulling me under to where I wish to be on these frigid days.
Maybe the earth will keep me warm because God knows I feel nothing but chill wind above it.
They tell me the orange bottles with white caps will harden the soil beneath me some days.
Hell some days I even convince myself that I’m actually going somewhere.
What a joke.
But the delusion can’t last for long.
One wrong step and I fall into a hole, deeper than the one before
I keep thinking I hit the lowest one until life goes so low I look up to see hell.
Why do the doctors think locking me up will help me.
Why do the doctor think if they chain me to ceiling the ground will stop pulling.
Because it ******* doesn’t.
It stretches you.
It pulls you.
It yanks your body, your mind, in a thousand directions.
All while they tell you to focus on them.
They put a mirror in front of your ******* face.
Reminding you that you won’t ever be normal.
Look at your skin. Scars make you a warrior right?
Well why am I never a veteran
I’m a soldier every day
In a constant battle
With naked trees surrounding me
Making the cold soil beneath me
Seem warmer and warmer with each day