• I feel like A dirty keyed up sneaker, you know the kind you find in the lost and found with the duck tape mangling and choking the wholes attempting to squeeze what’s left of the fabric together in order to shield out unfortunate low winds that sweep icily through your toes. Well I’m that scathed, drafty sneaker, sitting in the lost and found. I’m not even in the lost and found by accident or by long train of unpredictable events that could occur in a poor child loosing whatever ******** up piece of clothing he owns. I was put carefully in my place. I was sought out of the brand new payless box only to be hurriedly returned. For I was undesirable, which I knew quite well. I was diving into lava expecting to turn into an Ice princess. Though my thoughts mirrored the improbability of the situation, I let myself sit in shock and stare at the brown torn cardboard box soggily drooping in the corner of the cafeteria that had ‘lost and found’ written lazily in black sharpie ink along the side. I let myself become completely ‘unlaced’ in my new owners capable hands. Determined he untied my double knots, maybe just to see if he could. Then hastily without warning he relaced me gently, smooth and with caring hands. He let go and put me down. I guess that’s how these things work, you stay lost until you are found. But, Perhaps, it is better to have never been found at all.