To My Ceiling Who Has Seen All Of Me

nomao saeki
nomao saeki

Dear stucco ceiling,

Does it hurt when I poke your bumps?

How about when I run my fingers along them late at night?

I ask because sometimes you hurt me.

When I stand on my bed I tend to graze my shoulder or head against your popcorned texture. And I must say, there’s nothing buttery and appetizing about biting my tongue in pain after you leave a rug burn-like rash on my body.

Have you ever even tasted popcorn? We compare you to it so often and you might not even know what it is. I’ve never met someone who doesn’t like it, but then again you’re not a person…

And I’m sure for that reason, no person’s ever hugged you. Do you ever get lonely? Do porcupines struggle with a similar issue? These are examples of the types of questions I ask when I stare up at you.

Oh the aromas that must’ve wafted up and stuck to you over the years. Would it make you feel better if I Febreezed you? Or do you like being reminded of the past?

Oh if you knew the thoughts I have when you and I share an evening alone together. I bet you’re so full of knowledge.

Oh the obscenities you must see. Just plopped up there, looking down at everyone. Looking down at me.

I always forget you’re there.

On that note, I want to apologize for last night’s fun. I hadn’t seen him in a while and the passion had just built up.

Sex is a human thing. I’m sure you don’t get it, but then again maybe you do. Who knows whether or not your bumps mate and multiple? I bet no one would notice if a few more appeared after an unknown gestation period. Either way I hope last night wasn’t too uncomfortable for you.

God you must hear everything I go through: the tears, the laughs, the sighs and the silence. You probably know more about me than I know about myself.

You must hear the ugliest parts of people: the gossip, the hate speech, the portions of ourselves that we hide from the outside world. Yet, with all that mental burden, and the physical burden of those stompers above me, you never falter.

For your entire existence you’ve been an observer and a protector of people. I bet we could learn a lot about ourselves just from spending a little time in your position.

That’s another thought I’ll add to the list of contemplations I’ll have while watching the moonlight glisten off your uneven texture.

Nights like that always bring me such peace. I hope you find some comfort in them as well.

Until then,

A self-appointed observer of you. TC mark

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