DOMO

I held on to it tightly.  I don't want to let it go, for fear that I may lose everything inside it.

Earlier today, one of my favorite objects [a sling bag, given to me by a special person], got torn.  I was walking on the pathways of my university when it fell on the ground.  I was appalled.  Needless to say, I felt broken as I tried to mend the torn part of the strap.  It was difficult for me to keep walking.  Rationally, a bag contains valuables.  Naturally, I intend to protect whatever's inside it.

...but then again...that bag is special.

It was given to me [as I said above] by a special person.  He gave it to me as a product of the unfortunate event that happened on that fateful summer day.  Long story short, my wallet and my cellphone [that hasn't even reached two months in my possession] got stolen.  It was taken from my bag as we were walking on that specific street.  I was with that special person.  He consoled me.  It somehow worked.  He then told me that he'd give me some sort of sling so I could keep my cellphone near my body.  My idea of a sling is an ID strap.  His idea apparently, was a bag.

It was a DOMO bag.  I wasn't fond of that weird creature.  I stared at it open-mouthed as he gave it to me. His beautiful eyes looked at me with concern, as he said: "You can put your stuff here.  Please use it whenever you can."  I wasn't fond of that DOMO icon...but then again...I used it.  Every time I got out of the house; meaning everyday.

It has been six months since.

I have yet to fix it.  The bag is temporarily patched up by a safety pin.
...and my paranoia kicked in.

Is it a sign?  Is our relationship gonna fall apart?  Does that strap falling off have a significance?  
Somehow...I think it is.

I'll hold on to it tightly, as long as it's there...for fear of the unknown.
I can't keep it forever, however, I can hold on to it while I still can.