As a child, I saw faces on walls, ceilings, doorknobs and spoons. Then one day, they were all gone. I had faces follow me everywhere. I saw eyes in the zeros on a clock. I saw eyes in the floor tile stains with the lines making the mouth. Maybe they didn’t have mouths or noses sometimes but I always saw eyes. If they just had eyes their mouth was closed. Whenever I crossed my eyes there were even more faces following me. I liked them. I always had them even if I didn’t have anyone else. I always thought that with no one else I had my faces and myself at the very least. Then I grew older and things occurred. Good times. Bad times. Neutral times. Creative times. Many more. I saw faces only from time to time out of pure boredom here and there for several years. Then one day I reflected on my life and realized I couldn’t see faces on the floors anymore. The zeroes were just numbers now I had no eyes following me at all. Were those faces just not worth looking at anymore? Or was I just not worth looking at anymore?