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  • Doc Martens.

    I used to be scared of the emo kids when I was eleven.
    Then at twelve, I started listening to Amber Pacific and became one of them.
    I always thought Docs were for the emo punks.

    Then I went to Ireland in January and learned that Doc's have a meaning to them besides "I'm currently listening to screamo." They mean so.much.more.

    Before that January 1st, before the day I left home for five months; the thing that scared me more than anything on earth, I was a quiet girl desperate for adventure but scared to take the first leap. I knew who I wanted to become, but was too scared to be. I felt cramped in a box, hated so much about myself, was a control freak, worried about what ifs, planned endings before beginnings and everything in between.
    So pretty much I was a complete nutcase.

    But then I studied abroad in Ireland.
    I remember the first time I saw Docs. I saw a student that looked like she could be nice and needed a way to make a conversation with her, so I said I liked them. I don't even think I did at the time. It worked though and I took one of my first steps to feeling free.
    I would come to adore Docs not long after.

    Slowly but surely, I came into my skin. I finally stopped worrying and became who I wanted to be. I was a weirdo and I finally really accepted it. I came to terms with the fact that I hate going with the crowd, using umbrellas in the rain and had an obsession with clothes and perfect outfits more than anything. Like the Docs compliment, it worked, really well.

    For the first time in my life I felt true happiness for an extended period of time. Everyday was a unique adventure because I was so comfortable with myself. I made friends on grocery lines, failed at picking up guys, danced around like a fool and loved every awkward moment that came and went. I was free. I didn't know the feeling before and now here it was, right in front of me. Every second was amazing. Every second was like a fireworks show.

    I got my first kiss. I fell for a boy my last two weeks there knowing it would end suddenly. I let people I barley knew take me to parties. I went to bars alone. I people watched. Spent way too much money on clothes and went a little too crazy sometimes.
    I became.

    I knew it would end at one point. But five months is a really long time on paper. It shouldn't have gone so fast. But it did, and come mid May, the America life was approaching fast, too fast. The day came closer and I found myself wondering how I would continue the adventures and inner freedom, especially when I got back to my home uni, the one where everyone is parts of pods and I'm not. The place that has torn me apart since day one.

    I finally made the splurge and got them. Their an ode to who I have become, how I have broken boxes and boundaries that I aspire to break. People on campus stare at me when I wear them. They look at me like I'm an alien. It's okay though because I am one. The weekend nights are horrible for the most part and I wish that I will one day be able to look back saying I loved college. I won't. Yet, its okay. When I put on those boots, I feel free. Even if I'm stuck in a room full of clones, I'm transported else where; to the nights where all of my friends found guys besides me, to the bad kisses, total creeps, awful Italian men, rainy nights walking into the city in tiny dresses.
    To the place where I became.
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