Be All There
It was pouring rain that day. I couldâve called a cab or an uber for a ride to the cafe, but instead I wanted to walk. It doesnât rain that often in the summer, so when it does, the streets are less rowdy, just how I prefer it in my city. While I was walking I saw a girl drenched from head to toe from the rain. I didnât hesitate to go up to her and insisted she take the one and only umbrella I had; I thought she needed it more than I did.
It wasnât to my surprise that she didnât take my offer, it was to my surprise when she told me she loved the rain. Itâs people like her whom I admire because too often times people say they love the rain, but they seek comfort indoors. Itâs people like her whom I admire because she was all thereâher whole being and her entire love for the rain.
Thatâs why I refuse to believe when a boy says he loves me. I know heâs not all there. Only half of him isâwhatever that half intention is. He canât just say he loves me and find comfort in only parts of me he would rather be with. Be all there. Even if I drench you from head to toe.  Â















