CRACKED The ceiling hates me because it is cracked and imperfectand unloved and unfixed and nobody pays attention to it anyways, because they don’t care,well, I care, but that doesn’t really matter because it hates me the most because I am loved andmy life is good and I am not cracked or broken or crumbling and as far as I know I will notfall and squash somebody and I can move around and I play sports and I write and I read andI draw and I play, but the ceiling isn’t able to do any of that because it is inanimate and cannotmove, and I like looking at things, but I think I understand how boring it would be to see the samething over and over again, my family walking down the hallway, maybe carrying something, maybestomping, frowning, happy, sad. If the ceiling is inanimate, do you think it can see things?If it can’t it still somehow hates me, which seems impossible, but for now I’ll say it’s possibleand stop the fight and also the confusion, because you probably can’t understand a thing I’msaying, but that might be okay.