I see you found my socks. I didn't lose them, I left them on the floor on purpose, you wanna know why? Because that's where the dirty socks go. The floor is where I leave my trash and my laundry and the messy things of my life because I know that once there is room to breathe where my head is I can pick all the things up and throw them out. I can get new socks.
Ok maybe not 100% new, I'm not rich.
But I can send them through the washing machine once, twice, maybe even three times, and get out all the things that make you stare at my socks as If I'm not worth it.
Stop judging me by my socks.
I don't care if they're blue, purple, striped, or dirty on the floor next to the sweatshirt that you gave me... I see you found that sweatshirt, I didn't lose it, I left it there on purpose, you wanna know why? Because the floor is where I leave my trash, and my laundry, and the messy things of my life because I know that once there is room to breathe where my head is I can pick all the things up and throw them out.
I've thrown it all out. The sock. The old movie ticket. But not the sweatshirt. The one piece of me that smells like you, it's faded and blue, and it's here for me, and why aren't you?
Why aren't you?
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