umbrella love

 

An empty piece of paper that awaits me to scribble down a thought or two, yet, it remains as a blank canvas. My mind overflows with various images and thoughts but why, why is it nothing seems to grasp hold of my heart. What are these emotions i barely understand? These emotions that take up a fraction of my time, a portion of my energy. Maybe its just me looking too much into the greenery that even the droplets of rain on the red-bricked roofs tell a story. That even the littlest birds that kiss the morning air could actually be a writing of beautiful poetry that you and i fail to realise. Or maybe, its that certain tune or melody i hear that brings back a certain sort of deja vu. Still i can’t quite figure what exactly goes on in this intricate mind every single time i look out of the glossy – stained window pane.

Comes a day: Out of something, somewhere, a thought pops into my mind. I couldn’t quite capture it in a photograph as much as there was memory in my phone because those memories could one day vanish. Could perhaps one day, seize to exist.

However, it would be different when you capture a mental image with your body present. I remember the scenic view so distinctly and even the scent of fresh rain and the melodic tune that danced through my brain. There out of the glossy bus window, a thousand umbrellas of various colours. Barely recognisable from where i was seated but it told a thousand stories words couldn’t. Even when the sun peeked from the clouds, the umbrellas remained.  I thought to myself silently as the bus trudged on nonchalantly.

The idea of how i’ve always been sheltered by an umbrella throughout my whole life. Not once, was my head exposed. It came to me that we are all holding onto umbrellas and sheltering the ones we love so dearly every single day and that cycle repeats doesn’t it? Unfortunately, it also struck me that not everyone had an umbrella above their soaked and damped hair.

But, isn’t it funny? Funny how we are all so naive and stubborn. We take for granted the umbrellas above our heads. We neglect the ones that love us so dearly and try so hard to get to others that couldn’t care less if our hair was soaked in the tears of grey clouds way up high. We lie to ourselves that time will fight for love but no – time only fights for distance. And change.

“What is love”

Mum and Dad distinguishes the ideologies of love. When they whisper a word of love to you as they tuck you into bed – now that is love. You are of them, a part of them.

Sadly, those three words become so vague when you enter the world. We sit by the park benches in solitude only to be delusional about someone that may never return. Really, were you in love? Or were you merely in love with the idea of love? Were you a part of them or averagely just a part of their memory? You can’t do anything about someone who runs away from your umbrella after all can you?

Again, I ponder. How many umbrellas have I pushed away? Whose love have i taken for granted all these years? Everyday I look up and there again, an umbrella shelters me from the tragedies of the world. I begin to list out the people who have so painstakingly sheltered me with their umbrellas in hope that someone would shelter them too. Of course, my family. Not once have they retreated back the position of the umbrella above my head. In every distress, grandma still makes sure food is laid out on the table when i’m famished. Mum and Dad checks on me day in and day out that i’m hitting the quota of happiness every teen deserves. Brother ensures that i’m safe even when he acts like he couldn’t care less.

Who else?

Oh right, you.

I’ve always noticed your umbrella over my head but yet, I barely appreciate it. The times you went out of your way to ensure I was smiling again. You were there even when the storms seemed to have inverted so many umbrellas – yours remained. Every night I tell myself that its not your umbrella i need and that i am still searching for someone else’s love. Perhaps, that someone else had been you all along. I thought time would show but all that is left is regret because time grew us apart. Time taught you that I wasn’t worth waiting for. That’s okay. At least I know for sure that your umbrella is over someone else’s head and you are sheltering someone else from the darkest storms that could ever pass by in their lives.

Somedays I just wish I cherished those who held their umbrellas over me and loved me so dearly because sometimes with people, they walk away after losing faith. And all that remains are fragmented memories.

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