Finally, the day we’ve all been waiting for. Laundry day. It’s a great day to be a sock. We all needed it. We were piled higher than ever before. Maybe they forgot about us. Maybe they just didn’t have time. It’s ok, we understand. Humans are busy and we’re just your clothes. Not like we want to get clean or anything. I would finally be matched with one of my friends. I had been stuck in a pant leg all week. It was dark and I was all alone. Relief washed over me as the human loaded us into the washer. Soon me and my friends would be together.

The washer had always been my favorite. I loved the smell of detergent, fabric softener, and scent beads. It was always such a relief after smelling like ass for a week. The wash would last for an hour, and it would be several more hours before anyone came back. One time they didn’t come back until the next day. Such overachievers, bravo! Sure, we were wet and cold, but at least we smelled like a Spring Meadow.

We were finally thrown into the dryer after a long, damp wait. It was so nice and warm in there and the new dryer sheets smelled heavenly. It’s like a rollercoaster ride in the dryer. We get thrown all around and it starts off fun, but then that ride goes on for two long hours. Motion sickness is a thing guys. We don’t always leave the dryer right away. Sometimes they’ll forget we’re here and they’ll start the dryer up again, as if that somehow makes up for leaving us there for days at a time.

When they remember to take us out of the dryer, we finally see our old friends. They start by dividing us. It’s one of the best things about being a sock. They always match us last, so we get more time to chill with the other socks we don’t normally socialize with. This is our time to do headcounts.

Why would socks need to do regular headcounts? Since the beginning of sock civilization, socks of all ages, shapes and sizes had been disappearing without a trace. Some socks believe that the others got too close to where the water drains out, and they ended up wherever all that water goes. Some think the water just washes them away. Others believe there’s a monster who drags them to sock hell. There are some who believe that during the drying cycle, a black hole forms after so many rotations, and it sucks them into another dimension. There are some crazy socks out there who believe that the humans just misplace the socks. We can never know for sure. Headcounts are a tradition. We must stick together no matter what. This time we were lucky. Everybody was accounted for.

We said our goodbyes as the human started to match us with our pair. This part wouldn’t take long. Once we were matched, we were thrown into the basket of folded clothes. It was nice to get out and breathe but all good things must come to an end. We were going to be waiting there for a week because that’s how long it takes the humans to put us away. Moral of the story, humans suck at doing laundry.

It had been weeks since Mildred’s husband had died. In that short period of time, she had turned into a whole different person. His funeral had changed her. Everybody knew better than to ask her how she was doing. Last time that had happened everybody suffered the consequences. Once you got her started there was no stopping her. One day, the group got together for brunch. After severally glasses of wine, somebody asked the dreaded question, “How are you Mildred?”

“How am I? How am I?!!” Mildred asked. “I have never been better!!” she exclaimed.

“45 years I had to listen to that man snore. I am getting the best sleep of my life. I don’t have to share the bed with anyone. I get all the pillows and all the comforter. The house has never been cleaner. I knew that man was the reason my house stayed dirty. He was disgusting and had no home training. He always left toothpaste all over the sink and always managed to get water all over the mirror. He never flushed the toilet or put the seat down. I don’t ever have to hear him fart around me or smell him shitting with the door open ever again. I don’t have to ever trip over his shoes again or pick up his dirty boxers again. I can finally hang decorative towels in the bathroom. I can finally decorate the house how I always wanted to. The man had no sense of style,” Mildred babbled.

“Not having to clean up after a grown man has given me plenty of time to work on me. I have been able to exercise again. I’ve already lost 30 pounds. I even do yoga now. My skin has been so smooth. I’m literally glowing. No more stress eating. No more stress, period. I’ve gotten a couple cats, too. The old man was allergic to cats, so I was never able to have one. I’ve even started writing a book. I have never been more alive,”rambled Mildred.

“At first I was sad that he was gone. That is until I met all his girlfriends at the funeral. All 4 of them. I had done everything for that man. All I wanted to do was drag him out of his casket and beat him in front of his friends and family. They were all so young they could’ve been our children. All those extra hours he worked were nothing but lies. All the time he spent trying to lead on different women, he could’ve been trying to work on our relationship,”continued Mildred.

“Some people think that if a man cheats on you, all the women involved are losers, but I’m not a loser. I’m the real winner in all of this. He’s dead and he didn’t leave those women with anything. Everything went to me. I own the house and the vacation home, and I own the boats and the cars. Most importantly, I got all the money. Even though I wasted many years with him, I am finally free. I plan on having a lot of fun.” Mildred said with a wink.

Once again, another meal was made awkward. I don’t think you’re supposed to talk about someone like that when they die. Mildred was going to hell for talking about her dead husband and we were going to hell for listening. We were drunk accomplices who shouldn’t have gotten Mildred drunk. It would be many hours until she finally stopped talking shit about her dead husband. There’s no stopping her once you get her started.

Hello, I’m a five-dollar bill. I know what you’re thinking. Money can’t talk, I must be going crazy. Don’t worry, you’re not going crazy. I can talk. I also have feelings that nobody seems to think about. Nobody ever thinks about where I’ve been, what I’ve seen. Nobody ever remembers having me in their wallet, but I remember all of them. I have had five different owners before ending up in your wallet.

 My first owner was a man cashing his check at the bank. It was back when I was brand new and crispy. He was clean and smelled good and he had a nice wallet. First wallet I ever seen, and it was designer. Not bad for a first wallet. Things were looking good for me. He had a lot of other crispy bills, bigger bills. I guess I wasn’t that special to him. He spent me right away on gas station food. GAS STATION FOOD! Here I thought that I would be spent on something classy. Who the hell eats gas station food anyways? I would be stuck in that gas station register for what seemed like an eternity.

My second owner came into the gas station wanting some sticks and some cigarettes. He got me and a couple old, dirty one-dollar bills back. His wallet wasn’t as nice as the first wallet I seen. It wasn’t as clean either. There were more receipts than bills in that old wallet. Couldn’t get any worse, right? He pulled me out and started breaking down some green stuff on me. It smelled like cat piss and it made me sticky. What an asshole. He really just used me to roll up a blunt. I felt so used. He dusted me off and handed me to his friend. I guess he owed him five dollars. Hopefully this new owner would be better.

My third owner wasn’t any better. He didn’t even have a wallet. He had a huge wad of bills in his pocket and that’s where I went. I had lost my smooth, crispy appearance and now I was getting bent up. I wondered where he would take me next. It seemed like every time someone took me out, I ended up somewhere worse. There was music and flashing lights. It sounded like a party. There were ass and titties everywhere. He took me to a strip club and unfortunately, I wasn’t spent on food or drinks. It didn’t take him long to stuff me into a stripper’s musty ass. Guess this is my new owner. It’s not quite the way I would’ve wanted to meet her.

My fourth owner counted me out with the other musty bills she had accumulated. She didn’t have a wallet either. She stuffed me into her titties and off we went. There was no telling where this stripper was taking me. Hopefully she would hurry up and spend me on something. First ass sweat and then titty sweat. I didn’t know how much of this life I could take. This wasn’t how I imagined my life. We were back at her apartment where people were already partying. She pulled me out and rolled me up. What the hell was she going to do to me? She put me up to her nose and started snorting something white. Cocaine. This is what I had amounted to.

I was used, I was damaged, and I was covered in cocaine dust. I had hit rock bottom. Her nose wasn’t the only nose that had used me that night. So many people had used me that night and I ended up in someone else’s wallet. It didn’t seem like such a bad wallet. She smelled good and had soft, gentle hands. Anywhere was better than here. She took me out and put me under a pillow. This is how I met my fifth owner.

My fifth owner was a little boy. He had gotten me from the tooth fairy, and he was very excited to have me. He was learning how to save money. He loved me. He constantly counted me with his other bills. He occasionally brought home some new friends. I was finally somewhere safe. He used to play with me, take baths with me, and cuddle with me at night.  I wasn’t just a piece of paper to him and neither were the others. He kept us in a big, blue piggy bank. He used to talk to us and tell us he would never spend us. Whenever he would get home, he’d ask us how our day was. He was the only person to ever do that. He was the only person to ever treat me like a friend. He was the only person to ever care about how a five-dollar bill felt. I wanted to stay there forever and be loved.

One day the piggy bank was broken, and it wasn’t broken by the little boy. It was broken by a man, maybe his dad or somebody. He stole us away from our home. The one place we were happy. He spent my friends on drugs, and I was spent on gas. All I could think about was how sad that poor little boy was going to be once he got home and seen we were all gone. He didn’t deserve that. Deep down I knew that I would never find a friendship like that again, because let’s face it, nobody wants to be friends with a five-dollar bill.

That’s how I came to be in your wallet. You put $45 in your tank and got me back as change. I don’t expect you to keep me. They never do. It’s just a matter of time before you spend me. I’ve already been ripped away from the one person who cared about me, the one person who I cared about. So please, before you spend me on something stupid and meaningless, think about what I’ve been through. Spend me on something that matters. Spend me on something special. Give me a pleasant memory of you, one that will make me smile.

Disclaimer: Profanity in use. Do not continue if you are fainthearted or easily offended!!

To the bitch it may concern,

I can’t think of anyone more wicked. How could you adopt some kids just to abuse them? Did it ever occur to you that you were too fucked up to be a mother? You couldn’t even be a mother to your own son, yeah Michael. You ditched him and left him with his abusive father. You ran off to Texas to fuck with a new man. How the fuck could you leave him?

You shamed my sisters and me about our bodies. We fasted and exercised daily. You never shut the fuck up about how we were too heavy. We get it, your fat ass was skinny three decades ago. We get it, you didn’t get fat until you had Michael. They should really do psyche evaluations before letting just anybody adopt. Your ass was crazy for real. You just wanted some servants to clean your big house. You never wanted any of us to go to college, because who the fuck would clean your big house.

You got rid of my big sister when she was 16. She was not ready for the cold world. You’re the reason she turned into a drug addict. Guess it wasn’t hard to get rid of someone who wasn’t your kid. You were never satisfied with anything I ever did. I would bring home A’s just to hear they should have been 100’s. Who were you to ever judge? Your ass could barely read or write, let alone do math. When were you on the honor roll? When did you ever in your life receive an award? Yeah, never.

You were just a bitter old bitch who projected all her insecurities onto some innocent kids. All you did was put me back into the system. Who knew the system even allowed that type of shit? No surprises here though. You kind of have a pattern of giving up on your kids. But that’s right, I’m not your actual kid. Go fuck yourself. I feel sorry for any nursing home that has to deal with you.

Sincerely,

Not your daughter

Dear Bitch,

I always thought that maybe you were just a product of your own parents. They made you mean. They abused you and ran you off into the arms of your abuser. He got you so young he was able to trap you. You had to run away from him, into the arms of another abuser, and another abuser, until you finally got away and found peace. But by then it was too late for you. Maybe so many bad things happened to you that it made you angry inside. Your life didn’t turn out how you imagined it would, so it made you bitter. I always tried to see things from your point of view. Therapy teaches you how to reflect. It could have really helped you.

I wish you would’ve educated yourself on different body types. We had bigger frames because we carried extra muscle, we had athletes’ bodies. Everyone in my family has curves. There’s no way we could have ever been shaped like you, looked like you. We should have never been body shamed, even if being 100 pounds was still a trend. It wasn’t right to hurt a child’s self-esteem. It hurt so much constantly being criticized. I was just a young child trying to make my mom proud. Eventually I stopped trying. You can’t love somebody that can’t love their self.

I deserved to have been loved. My sisters deserved to have been loved. Being a mom now, I couldn’t imagine abandoning my son. I’ll never be able to understand how you could give up on your kids. You hurt me worse than my biological parents. You chose us. You had the choice to adopt us, to adopt me. You chose to be my new mom just so you could throw me away. I’ll never forgive you for that. I don’t have anything else to say to you. You don’t deserve it.

Goodbye,

A Total Stranger

Hi, my name’s Katrina. You’re lucky I’m talking to you because I don’t usually approach people. I’ve moved around a lot because of foster care, so I’ve always been the new girl. Sometimes you get tired of reintroducing yourself, trying to make new friends. You get tired of forming bonds with people just to not end up having them in your life. Sometimes I feel like a ghost. I feel like I moved from place to place without anyone noticing I was ever there. Nobody keeps in touch with somebody they only knew for a couple weeks or a couple months. You get forgotten. At least that’s what happened to me. Sometimes when you move around in the system, you don’t always get to collect numbers and addresses, and they never come looking for you. After a while constant small chat is boring. What’s the point? I don’t go looking for companionship anymore. If someone wants to be my friend, they must come to me. I want friendship, but I don’t need it, so I don’t make much of an effort anymore. You must show me that you really want a lasting friendship. I want to know your dreams, I want to know your feelings on certain subjects, I want to hear interesting things you’ve learned. I want meaningful conversation, intelligent conversations, deep conversations. Gossip is so boring to me. I’m too old to have childish friendships. We’re adults, you need to have goals and be out here trying to accomplish them. I don’t have time for clingy relationships. You must understand that we are both busy trying to achieve goals, and that we’re still friends no matter how long we go without talking. I’m focused on my goals and I won’t let anyone distract me from them. If we can’t be boring together, are we even friends?  I want friends I can read next to, get work done next to, game with, nap with, watch movies, and relax with while drinking wine or something. Nothing too crazy. I got responsibilities, I don’t be trying to waste money. I love my sleep, I don’t be trying to be out all night. I have a beautiful son to think about. We’re a package deal. He goes where I go and if he can’t go, neither can I. He’s 2 and I plan on enjoying him being little as long as I can. It flies by so quickly. It’s not like I’ll always have a child attached to me. If you can’t accept the fact I’m invested in my goals and invested in my child, then you don’t really deserve to be my friend anyways. It’s so difficult making friends that meet my standards. I don’t feel like I’m asking for much either. It’s not crazy to want to accomplish your goals and do right by your children. It’s crazy to not have goals and plans for your life. It’s crazy to have children and have other people raising them. I don’t want a lot of friends, I just want the right ones.

Thanks for joining me!

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton