Yeezy 350 Zyons by Kaden

Yeezy 350 Zyons by Kaden - August 2026 Scholarship Essay

Yeezy 350 Zyons. Shoes gifted to me in the 8th grade.

I slipped my feet into the shoes, two sizes too large. The shoes swallowed my feet whole, a reminder of the potential of my growth. Even though I could barely walk without looking silly, I was happy. I wasn't just filling space; I was growing into the person I was meant to be.

At the start of freshman year, my feet barely grew. Neither did my maturity.

I assumed the year would be a breeze. Dr. Hodgson's physical science class said otherwise. Her discussions moved too fast, the concepts felt hollow, and I procrastinated nearly everything last minute. Participating in classes felt like a chore, but talking with my friends felt effortless. By chance, I was able to end the class with an A.

The shoes were still pristine. I told myself I was smart, not lucky

That confidence followed me into sophomore year. I was determined to maintain my clean 4.0 GPA without giving full effort. Little did I know, this arrogance would lead to the first permanent stain. Mrs. Reynolds’s English class required us to read multiple books. No problem, I thought. I’d read the chapter summaries instead of the actual texts.

But then came the pop quizzes. Left and right.

"Who would give so many quizzes in one semester?" Mrs. Reynolds would smile, knowing that summaries wouldn't help. Every question just happened to be about the specific nuances, symbols, and side characters that the summaries skipped. My pristine record suddenly had its first stain. An 89 on my first semester of English, stamped onto my transcript.

I told myself the second semester would be different. This time, I would give 100% of my effort. Then The Odyssey, a 1.5-inch-thick book, dropped on top of my desk. It was intimidating, but instead of finding a shortcut, I opened it. I felt my body aging as I was reading, but the joy of seeing it be put to work as I aced the tests and quizzes was unforgettable.

I woke up to start the first day of my junior year. I slipped into my Yeezys; my toes had finally reached the ends. The year was different; I understood that results were proven, not given.

But there came a new obstacle. I was so focused on filling in the empty space that I forgot how hard it was fitting into the space.

Friends around me started talking about a new game I've never played, or a funny video I've never seen. I wasn't able to jump into conversations like I used to. I didn't want others to see the negatives about me, only the positives, even if it meant lying to save my reputation. But the weight of pretending soon became uncomfortable. One afternoon, tired of falsely laughing along to a conversation I didn't understand, I finally confessed that I hadn't watched the video or played the game. I braced myself for the rejection. Instead, my friends just laughed and showed me the video, "The video is so funny right?" one said. "You didn't play the game? Let's all get on tonight." They didn't care about my negatives or my fake reputation; they became friends with me because I was me.

Senior year is rolling around in a matter of weeks. It has almost been 5 years of wearing the same Yeezys gifted to me in the 8th grade. The shoes are no longer able to swallow my snug feet. The scuffs from me repeatedly cleaning them to show others the positive me. The threads in the knitting are coming undone, and the laces are fraying. However, the shoes are molded perfectly for my feet. I never needed new shoes, and I never needed a new persona.

I can just be me.