Chapter 1 The Ceiling Pretending Not To Listen
First I imagine
Not the ceiling not the room just the feeling
Someone is talking to me but they’re not here
They say something ordinary like Are you okay
And I answer out loud even though no one asked
That’s when the ceiling arrives
Not with sound but with presence
It pretends not to listen but I know it heard me
The ceiling turns bluish when I try to speak
Not sky blue more like the kind of blue that forgets how to be warm
It happens when people come over and take up all the space
They talk they laugh they fill the room with noise
And I shrink into the corners of my own thoughts
I try to answer someone who isn’t there
But the ceiling doesn’t understand
Maybe because I’m not really talking to it
Maybe because I’m not really talking at all
The ceiling never really responds
It just hovers pretending to be neutral
But the walls the doors the windows
They become people when I need them to
I talk to them like I’m in a mood-shaped room
And they talk back not with words but with understanding
There’s a bond between me and the door that feels older than language
When I speak it listens
When I cry it creaks softly
I’ve told it things I’ve never told anyone
Hours pass like minutes
It’s not therapy it’s something more sacred
It’s relief
If the ceiling ever spoke I wish it would say I feel you
Not I understand not I’m sorry just I feel you
Because the things I say when I’m alone aren’t meant to be understood
They’re meant to be felt
The walls don’t judge me
The couch doesn’t interrupt
The trees and clouds they just listen
I’ve spent hours staring at them breathing without speaking
Thinking without needing to explain
I don’t feel lonely when I’m alone
I feel lonely when I’m around people who don’t know how to listen
But the ceiling
Even when it pretends not to hear me
I think it feels me
