When I was a small child, I saw faces on many things. On the cracks of the tiles. To the etches of the paint. And in my loneliness these faces talk. Disapproving whispers of my ineptitude, anger, judgement visible in their lifeless eyes.

As I grow past my childhood, the faces fade into the back of my mind. In the bursts of happiness in my life, they never fail to have an eye out for me. In the quiet corners of my mind, I hear them whispering. My friends, they come and go. But the faces never leave. Over the years, they have slowly faded from my mind. As a non-existent low frequency humming that stays in your ear. 

I thought I’d be free. That those faces that have never left me alone are now gone. Like a bad fog that’s been lifted after years of travelling the long road of life.

...

Today I saw faces in the leaves.