A morning complaint to the objects rarely valued by society and the misfortunes that they bring.

Dear umbrella,

I really need you to cover me up from the rain but you’re never there. You are so important but so easy to forget. Really, aren’t you able to stay more than an entire day with me? Do I have to replace you every time it rains?

If I don’t forget you in the corner of a restaurant, at the entrance of a bank, or in a friends house, you break down. Or even worse, your spikes come undone and end up catching more rain than covering me from it.

What is the point? You act like weak and disposable napkin.

I don’t know if its better to buy you for $10 and change you every rainy day or buy you for $200 to try and see if I don’t forget you in every corner.

 

Hate you and need you at the same time.