My Sock Drawer

• 1 • 207

Ah, my sock drawer — an enigmatic universe of its own. Each time I open it, I feel like an explorer entering an uncharted realm. There are socks in there I've never seen before. Who knew paisley was making a comeback? And why is there a single neon green sock that looks like it belongs to an artist? I don't even recall buying it.

The drawer is a veritable Bermuda Triangle for footwear. Pairs go in, but only one sock ever seems to come out. Where its mate has gone is anyone’s guess. Perhaps there’s a secret portal to a parallel universe where lone socks live their best lives, free from the constraints of my left foot.

Some socks are old friends, threadbare but beloved, clinging to life by the sheer willpower of nostalgia. Others are stiff and new, glaring at me with disdain because they know they’ll never be picked over my trusty favourites. And then there’s that one rebellious toe sock, bought during a moment of madness, that looks at me every morning as if to say, “Feeling adventurous today?”

My sock drawer is a microcosm of my life — chaotic, colourful, and full of surprises. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.