I have a depressed umbrella

Well, I don’t actually need an umbrella since I’m not going outside much. Working from home keeps me away from the chilly and foggy mornings, the cold rain and wind, and I’m grateful for that.

I never liked umbrellas. I have too many stories with them being turned over or even snatched away by the wind, leaving me out there in the rain with no protection. So I stopped using them. Yes, it’s true that whenever I needed it, if forced to be outside, I would either borrow one or run through the rain. But, usually, I would’ve done anything to avoid being out while it rained.

Now, that I no longer have to get out of the house if I don’t want to, I own two umbrellas. Ironic, isn’t it? When I told someone that I don’t go out when it’s raining, they gifted me an umbrella. It’s brand new, still wrapped up. If the umbrella had any feelings, it would feel very, very sad. To exist for a certain purpose, but never to be used. To be ignored, left in a dark corner beside the door, catching dust in a place where not even spiders want to live. What else can an umbrella do, but provide protection against rain? Created for such a heroic goal, yet not accomplished. Rainy day after rainy day I deny its right to complete its purpose, to achieve what it was created for.

I feel bad for it and I will wait for a rainy day to make my umbrella happy.

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