In the Midst Of Staring At My Ceiling
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In the Midst Of Staring At My Ceiling

Inner thoughts of a Ceiling Starer

In the Midst Of Staring At My Ceiling
daya e dodson

We all know boredom. Boy have we been there. Everyone has different tactics of dealing with there boredom. Some people listen to music. Some people watch television or read a book.

I decide to stare at my ceiling. Yes, I am ceiling starer. Because I spend so much time by myself, about 65% of the time is spent staring at my ceiling. Now you may ask

What does said person do while staring at their ceiling or said person think about?

Well because I am such a artistic person or whatever, this is the time where most of my "Art" comes from. I write a good amount of poetry in my spare time.

This is where a lot of that inspiration comes from. In these ceiling sessions I think about life, love, dreams, aspirations, the whole nine yards. I end up thinking about a lot. Now you may be thinking as well

God I must be a awfully lonely person

Well it has it's perks from time to time. I have gone on to write some incredible things. Sometimes I forget them so while in the midst of the sessions I try to write everything down. I am never sure when I will use some of my certain writings but I try to keep documentation of all of them.

One day in particular I wrote this one piece. I am not exactly sure when I wrote it but hey I wrote it. This piece has no title or date or any indication of what to do with it in the future. It was just something I was feeling one day.

My mother warned me
she told me to stay astray
do not follow the path of loneliness
yet i find myself following
closer to the path each day
a once social butterfly
now a mute moth
clinging to a lantern light.
My dreams are my light
they are what guide me through my darkness
they are the only thing that keep me sane.
I feel as if something haunts me
as I roam around going my way
darkness and sadness whispers
in my ear like a whistle in the wind
at night.
He says come to me
I am peace, silence, and solitude
he is still and he is silent.
My mother warns me to be free
live free sweet child of mine
I live in the cracks of the night
no I agree I am not fine
but I can not seem to define the line
something happy yet something keeps me
it is as if something holds me underwater
pressure breathes down the back of my neck
it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand
something I can't seem to shake
yet I appreciate those nights I set back and let
Frank Ocean's Nights fade into my mind
this is every night
This is every night.

I come up with things like this all the time. Although ceiling staring sessions technically suck I do appreciate the little small things that come from it like this.

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it
- Confucius

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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