An umbrella has been hovering over my head since I can last remember. If it’s shielding me or covering the outside world, I still do not know. It steers me away from storms, guarding me against the rays of something bright.

The umbrella says these things are dangerous, that I shouldn't leave the space from underneath it. It says that I couldn't handle the harsh outside world without its protection. Maybe it's right; perhaps I shouldn't leave the shelter it provides me.

But I see others wander, free of their umbrellas. Striving through life, they seem at peace. I'm never at peace; the umbrella always looms over me, watching me, judging me, telling me all the things I do incorrectly. All the things I'd keep doing incorrectly if I didn't have its help – its guidance.

I'm getting too big for the umbrella though. My head’s starting to hit the top, struggling against its restraints. The umbrella doesn't understand that I no longer need its protection, that I can wander the world free of its advice. It has given me enough to survive out there.

Alone, free of its judgement, free of the condescending words it spouts out. It may have given me shade from the sun all these years, but the shadows can be a dark and lonely place to be kept in.

And soon enough, I will become an umbrella myself.

Desirea Caballero

Desirea is an avid reader and storyteller. As a second-year Professional Writing student, she hopes to reach and inspire people with her work.