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An Open Letter to the Crack in my Ceiling
There are so many things I would like to say to you,
But the first is to shut up.
I know what you're letting out when you think I am asleep,
I can hear the screaming echoes that you refuse to keep.
If you think that I'm just some little girl who's afraid of a skinny crack in the roof, then you're wrong,
I'd buy some crazy glue but I'd still know what lies behind
What my eyes can see,
Like the broken pieces of a kaleidoscope, some shattered dreams
Twinkling behind the ceiling seams,
A mess of cautiously collected scraps of scary things
But I won't let that get to me.
This isn't some game of operation and if I hit the wall I don't expect you to scream.
It's not like we make the best team anyways.
All you do is look down on me.
Yet I suppose that's the only way you know how to view people.
And I could say the same about Angels,
But I've heard they're pure.
And you? Well, I'm not sure
If you're the type of thing that is good for me.
I've heard that it's okay to imagine but this is a lucid dream,
And I'm not very keen
On understanding how to wake up from the nightmare of my everyday living.
I'm forgetting but not forgiving
People for the things they do to me,
I'm a teleporting wishing well
And all I want to do is make other people happy.
I know, it sounds a bit sappy
But I'm just a play dough girl who would change herself for someone's smile
Even if it meant she had to go the extra mile.
I call it determined but the other kids call it controlling,
And sometimes I catch them whispering while I'm strolling
Down the concrete hallway,
Wishing they didn't see me that way,
But I can't keep filling myself up with spare change.
Wishing everything would disappear for a moment
Into the oblivion that hides behind your popcorn putty lips.
Some people try to tell me that the things I think are real are fake
But make no mistake,
I can see you when my eyes are closed so I know you must be there.
It's not fair
That you have to hide yourself from others,
But maybe they just don't notice you.
People don't always look up when they're around me
Because they're too busy focusing on the ground I'm standing on.
Every floorboard that shakes under my feet is a representation of my mental stability.
Which I obviously lack.
I mean, I'm writing to a crack
In my ceiling for goodness sake!
And this isn't the first time I've written to part of the foundation of my home,
Maybe it's a sign that I'm going insane from being alone.
I need someone to balance out my life, but I'm addicted to walking tightropes.
I have a thing for putting myself on slopes
Where I could easily slip down, much quicker than it took me to get up
Except I won't give up.
I am alive
And I know I will survive if I misplace my footing
Because I have a net below me made out of blankets that I collected
During all the years I felt neglected
By human touch.
Is this too much to be telling you?
I know you're just a crack
But you're all I have
And without you, I'll go mad,
But what if that's already happened?
What if I'm just stuck under a crumbled wall,
Waiting for someone to finally notice the footprints
I left on the floorboards?
West Jordan, Utah
Westville, New Jersey
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