I have this umbrella you see.
Its small, but its just about enough circumference to cover me. I can wish it was wider, but thats never going to happen.
The thing is, this little umbrella of mine, it protects me from all the negativity I've accrued from being a self-driven egomaniacal bastard who is hashtag desperately looking for a reason to live.
Its stupid I know, but I carry my little umbrella wherever I go. And above me, thats where all those negative thoughts and past crimes and worries. That's where they all hang out, in this overwhelming sea of darkness, just shedding darkness down upon me from all directions.
But underneath the umbrella, its not dark, its just normal surrounded by dark.
Sometimes the umbrella grows, sometimes it shrinks, and on some very bad days, it nearly folds right up, leaving me almost entirely at those dark moments' mercy.
My words can't open my umbrella, only actions can. Yet other peoples words will do so. Compliments or praise, well I am still far too into such things, I know I shouldn't judge myself on the words of others. You see, I have to do things to keep it open. In the past, before all this, I'd give blood, I'd donate, I'd hand off sandwiches to the homeless.
I can't do most of that anymore. Blood's probably tainted. I've got no money, and I /am/ the homeless.
So I work, and I try, and I listen.
My entire life revolves around finding frickin side quests that I can solve, and doing them, so that umbrella opens up for a while.
Its my comfort and my shield against all my despair and woe. All those reminders of the things I've done...all those reminders that I should be dead again.
For a little bit longer, I'll stay under my umbrella, before that fateful day that it collapses entirely.
