There's this thing going on with me. This constant tug-of-war between hate and love. What am I talking about? I'm talking about my feet.
There are many things I love about my feet... Like they hold me up and allow me to walk from one place to another. I adore the callouses on my feet because they show that I'd much rather go barefoot (not that I'm a hobo or anything. I choose to blame a brief stint in PNG where barefoot is the norm). The scars on my feet serve to demonstrate what I have gone through. Plus there is no other way I could justify my pretty, pretty shoes. Yes it's true my feet are valuable and useful.. And sometimes I feel like chopping them off!
You see my feet cause me pain. The kind of pain that makes it hard to sleep sometimes. My feet tend to act of their own accord - sometimes they just start moving and I'm fairly sure my brain didn't give them instructions to do so. Sometimes my feet can even turn into as obstacle - you try getting somewhere fast only to trip over your own feet (Watch that ground there. It's completely flat!)
So it's true my feet are cumbersome and calloused. They are a nuisance and a necessity. But I love them because they're mine... And they have their own stories to tell.