The room is so quiet. Too quiet.

The faces that stare back at me… don’t stare back at me at all. Some stare at their hands or at the floor. Some tap away at phones while others are hunched in corners, heads buried. Some are tall, others are short. There are dark ones and light ones, girls and boys, every body shape under the sun. But somehow, they all look the same. Sad. Hopeless. On the verge of a mental breakdown. I can see it in their eyes; I can see it in all their eyes. All their eyes are the same. Deep brown eyes, eyes so dark they should be black, eyes so dark they should be dead. I know those eyes.

They are my eyes.