popcorn ceiling

most people hate you. you are a symbol of cheapness, out of fashion taste. tackiness.
i used to feel the same way.
until i stare up at you from my dorm bed, studying for a final, dreaming of somewhere else.
you are there.
you sit in my home as well. above me every night as i drift off to sleep.
or as i stay up rereading a childhood book with frayed edges and a cracking spine.
as i cry in my room over a bad grade, a breakup, a sad movie.
as i sit at my desk, writing a paper that will make or break my class grade.
as i eat with my family in the kitchen. as i sneak my hand under the table and feed a piece of chicken to my aging dog.
as i shove a granola bar in my mouth and fill my water bottle, as i trip over my shoes trying to tie them while i’m late for work.
you are there, watching. and you have been for almost twenty one years.
and now you are here in my dorm, on the last week of classes, and still you watch.
i look up at you and think of home
and suddenly my homework doesn't seem so bad.