I’m going to be honest. I don’t really know if this will change anything. But everyone keeps telling me that writing is therapeutic, so I’m going to give it a shot.
I never thought this would happen to me. To us. It always happened to the others. I thought we were different. Sure, when we first met, we may have got off on the wrong foot; but being forced to hang out with each other made us fast friends. Pretty soon, we were inseparable.
We were matched up with each other from the start. It was our job to be together forever. I never went anywhere without you, and always made sure to stay close. Our friends were great, too. There were days, weeks even, where we’d all huddle up, clinging to each other like there was some sort of static electricity binding us to one another, but in reality, it was just destiny.
Sure, there are snags in every relationship – and we were no different. Some days it just felt like you were one step ahead of me, anticipating my every move. But the pace was far too fast for me to keep up, and eventually, I got tired, worn down, and defeated. I was cast aside, thrown on the floor, put in a pile to associate with others who were washed up, faded, and used.
But then you joined me, like you always did. We were the perfect pair.
Our life, although never dull, had its low moments. It seemed as though we were stuck in a tunnel with no light at the end, wondering when we’d both get to go back home. I missed our friends. They were so colorful, so vibrant, much more so than us. We were plain, but it was okay. We liked it that way. We went with the flow; not the most popular of the bunch, but we always got invited to do things.
I got used to spending my time with you, and at the end of the day, it never mattered to me that you were dirty and didn’t smell great. I should have listened during our arguments when you would constantly ask me to, “put myself in your shoes.”
I guess what I’m saying is, I was selfish. I never knew that our time together would end so abruptly. I never really got to say goodbye. It was time for our monthly getaway, a trip downtown with friends: tons of water, lots of heat, a place to let loose and get rid of all our stains we’d garnered from the work week.
One minute we were holding hands, spinning in circles. A couple kids in love, enjoying the water. Next thing you know, I lost control, and turned around and you were gone. The pool was crowded, more so than usual. Must have been spring break or something. I figured I’d catch you when you wanted to dry off.
But I was the only one got to dry off. I lost you. I was left, and you were right – we never should have taken our eyes off each other. It happened for a second and now you’re gone.
I don’t know what else to say. I guess everything doesn’t come out in the wash. But I feel as though I serve no purpose. Life is pointless without you. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last. Even our friends have started distancing themselves from me. I guess they’re getting more time outdoors – I should be happy for them.
I will never forget you. You were my sole mate.
I hope you’re happy. Wherever you are.
- Weekly Writing Challenge: Make It Stop |
- Getty up time | British Chick Across The Pond
- Splashform | Stealing All the Sevens
- Weekly Writing Challenge: Leave Your Shoes at the Door | life n me!
- The prisoner | Life is great
- The Embrace | Not a Punk Rocker
- Ecuador Volcano Adventure Meets Mafia Memory (I Kid you NOT) | reinventing the event horizon
- Sharing This Moment (Weekly Writing Challenge: Take Your Shoes Off…) | jennsmidlifecrisis
19 thoughts on “Sole Mates.”
Absolutely brilliant. Loved it 😀
🙂 thank you!
ha ha brilliant! If it weren’t for the image I don’t think I would have figured it out as early on as I did. Very well done 🙂 and thanks for the pingback 🙂
thank you! i loved your post as well 🙂
Well then that makes us even 😉
Very nicely done!
🙂 thank you
No I’m not crying, I just have something in my eye. This is so full of emotion it just spill out everywhere.
You never truly get over a lost sock. You just can’t!
No you can’t, you’re absolutely right.
I love this, Meg!
Thank you! Gotta give socks a platform to fight back!