Do you know what’s been killing me since Wednesday? Out of everything?
This. SO MUCH this. I mean, yes, also the William stuff because I’m me. But, mostly, it’s been this. Know why? Because this has meaning.
Oliver washed up on Lian Yu, undoubtedly soaking wet, dirty, traumatized and exhausted.
He survived through sheer force of will and a refusal to give up.
He fought. He bled. He almost died countless times, but he just kept going.
Imagine for a minute this is you. Imagine you’re cold. And sore. And hungry. And tired. And in pain. All. The. Time. For years. Imagine the level of athleticism required to survive.
It isn’t quirky that Oliver has a thing for socks. And it’s not a throwaway meaningless moment. With shoes undoubtedly worn through the soles and socks worn to threads, the only replacements available found on the feet of the people he killed. Imagine how badly his feet hurt. Imagine how blistered and sore they were all the time. Imagine, when he washed up, how badly he wanted clean, dry socks and shoes.
Oliver needs socks now because Oliver knows what it’s like to go without socks. And that is what’s been haunting me since Wednesday.