The first thing which you will notice about me is that I am not the thing to be noticed. When I am there, I remain hidden most of the time. But, not because I am afraid of my identity. But, because, remaining hidden is my identity. And If I am being noticed, then it is not the best time to be with me. Neither for you nor for me. I am easy to be part with. Too easy. No one praises me when I am decent. But, I am being looked upon with disgust when I stink. Bad. Pungent. Unpleasant. I will be dumped mercilessly. Never to be thought of. I am thrown sometimes under the bed. In dark, unused corners, where my smell will not cause problem to others. I am in every household. But in the bigger scheme of things, I hold no significance. I am never a topic of discussion. I am cursed upon, when someone can not find one of me on time. Yes, I am your own smelling, often despicable, a mere sock.
Spare a thought for the esteem in which a Shoe is held as compared to mine. Shoe, the thing to which I am attached almost all the time. But what difference in the level in which we are kept!. While Shoes are always looked at, asked upon and praised, I am not there even when I am there. Shoes have the front seats to every action, whereas I rarely see the light of the day. Girls can spend an entire evening talking about nothing but shoes, whereas I do not seem to attract any attention. Shoes will be bought in big malls, branded shops. I will be picked from the footpath with a price of 6 for Rs 50!!The Wikipedia page on Shoes contains 14 sections, 10 sub-sections and 6 sub-sub-sections. What about me? A tiny 11 sections. Shoes will be polished regularly. I am lucky, if I am being washed. Guys often leave me untended. They will leave me under the carpet and forget about me completely until one day I am discovered by the maid doing the cleaning.
When I am Lost, no one cares. I am easily replaced. When I am finally found after a rather fortunate encounter, I am being examined. Either I am thrown into a garbage can or used for other disgusting jobs in the house. Imagine Me, once who walked hand in hand (though neglected) with the mighty shoe, attached to a viper and cleaning rooms, kitchens and what not! Me, who himself was rarely taken care of making sure that the floors of the house is clean. My life is ironical too. Much like the life of the person who wore me once.
Do I feel bad about all this? Yes. I do. Can I do anything to change this? No. I can not. I am not much too different from the person who wears me. What he feels is not much different from what I feel. He is a forgotten soul. Hidden. Unnoticed. Insignificant. Lost somewhere under the carpet. He lives the life of a Shoe on the outside. Shining. Attractive. His sock-like inner being lies in the corner. That being was decent when it started, but now it stinks. It can not be washed or polished. Unless it is found. But, there is no one, but he himself who will have to pick the broom and do the cleaning. Until then, he will lie just there. Decaying every passing day. Unattended. Just like me, A Sock.