To my dear Sock Buddy,
I have the utmost respect for people who appreciate funky socks. Believe it or not, I actually do not own a single pair of black/white or single-colored socks. I started collecting funky socks (yes, I collect them and they’re called my “Soxy Collection”) towards the end of my senior year of high school. By my Sophomore year of college, I had quite the impressive collection of socks.
Sophomore year was also the hardest year for me in college. I was in and out of the hospital at least once a week, I ended up switching my major—which felt like giving up on my life’s dream that I had since childhood—I strongly considered dropping out of college, and I was in a losing fight with depression. I was fighting a monster that was not physical, yet, it was taking so much from me.
This story sounds a bit crazy whenever I tell it, but something that helped me through that hard time in my life were my socks. Every morning when I slide a sock onto my foot, I looked at the funky design, felt silly, blissful then I cracked a smile—despite what I was feeling or what I wasn’t looking forward to for the day. The socks played a crucial role in my mental stability back then, and they still do till this day.
I hope that, in your beautiful life, you always find bliss in the smallest things, in the most unreasonable things—no matter how people may judge you about it. I hope you’re able to find joy in the simplest things until that joy has a permanent place in your heart, being with you everywhere you go.
Cheers,
Charles
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