You know what they say, a little rain never hurt anybody, so I’ll be just fine. Trust me. 

Umbrellas are supposed to be used to keep a person dry in the rain. Okay, so to be very specific,  they are just tools to be used to keep things under them dry in the event of a downpour. In this scenario that would be you, which includes but is not limited to, your hair and ears and those owl earrings I bought for you at the bookstore, your flashy eyelashes and rosy cheekbones, the soft lines that serve as the outskirts of your wine lips I just love to see curve upward when we are talking, and of course that comfy ass, oversized hoodie you always wear when I ask you to come take a nap with me. We both know that hoodie belongs to me, but when you told me you liked it because it smelled like me and you wanted to keep it for the night so you could wear it to sleep, well holy hell, I never knew someone talking about how I smelled could make me feel so fucking loved. So now it’s “our” hoodie, just like The Muppets became “our” movie, Red Robin became “our” restaurant, Breaking Bad was “our” show, so somehow, even with all this sharing, all of these things that became “ours”, I didn’t see any problems with having my heart be all “yours”. Everything else was just stuff, right? I can get a different hoodie and burn the old one. I can start hating the muppets; maybe begin a complete aversion to all things puppet related, just to be safe. I can stop eating at Red Robin, or even just avoid all food places with names relating to red things, or bird things, or just stop eating altogether to save myself the hassle. I can stop watching AMC, or break my TV, or hell, just sell all my shit, move to a cabin in the woods and be a fucking hermit for the rest of my life. I can do any of that, or none of that, because those things were “ours”, so even if there stops being an “us”, those things will still be there, and they don’t lose any meaning, the memories remain, and that’s not a bad thing. But I made my heart yours…and I didn’t really give you a choice in that, huh? I was a dark soul, and you were my light, and I was so fucking happy to finally be…happy…I didn’t think I had a heart to give, and when you showed me I did have a heart, well I was so eager to give it to you, to force it onto you. We could share your heart, but not mine; I didn’t know how to share it, because I didn’t even know I had one…I didn’t know how to love myself, so instead I threw all of my love, every ideal of love I had compiled over my 22 years of existence, and I crammed it all together and I gave it all to you, without a receipt or anything, and what could a nice person like you do but accept it with that curvy smile and a warm hug in “our” hoodie and promise me you’d keep it safe forever and always? None of this is your fault. I’m the type of human who finally finds a heart, only to eagerly shove it into someone else’s hands and expect them to keep it safe and warm and loved for me. That’s not how hearts work. That would be the same as walking out into the rain and getting wet, then having a stranger hand you an umbrella and saying “Hey, this is your umbrella, it was just sitting there right next to you, so I grabbed it, but it’s yours. I have my own, so you just keep this one, it’s yours.” and then shoving that umbrella back into that person’s hands and replying “You’re so kind and you’re so wonderful, please, just keep both umbrellas, really, somebody like me doesn’t even know what an umbrella is for. I mean, if I had to make a guess I would say umbrellas are supposed to be used to keep a person dry in the rain. Okay, so to be very specific,  they are just tools to be used to keep things under them dry in the event of a downpour. In this scenario that would be you…