I had a pair of black North Face winter boots that lasted throughout all my years of active addiction. The toughest years were the last two, as I was homeless and living on the street. Both laces of the boots were missing, because at one time or another, I needed something to tie off with. The toes were wearing thin and this past winter when I wore them, they let the cold and wet soak my feet.

Today, I looked at them and thought, it’s time to trash them. But, I felt like I could not let them go. They were the only thing that outlasted the time I spent homeless and using. Those boots spent two winters out there with me, and protected my feet from the elements, even with no laces. Unbeknownst to me, at some point, I had forged an emotional attachment to a worn out pair of boots. If that doesn’t explain the plane of solitude on which I was barely existing, I don’t think anything will.

In the end, though, I threw them away.

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