I look around and see all those faces.

Those of a rounder, tinier shape as well as the square-y

intimidating ones.

And they smile.

They smile and drink and smoke and pretend that everything is okay,

and that our world is not collapsing,

and our lives are not completely turning upside down right now. 

All the bright colors that illuminate their bodies

and their faces plant the thought in my head that I can't change anything. 

The squeaky brightness turned me blind towards

my own, my friends, and the world's problems. 

I want to consume more.

More, more, more. 

Somehow, they still smile with bags under their eyes,

but they still won’t admit that they are tired of all the nights spent awake,

wondering why they were not good enough

or why life does not make sense anymore.

So much happens at once.

So little time to process the changes we live through

and suddenly we wake up just to see that we can’t handle it anymore.

Just to see that, every little sound is too much

for our ears to cope,

because our eyes are blinded by the colors.

All those new flawless things and human beings

now seem like they were made of plastic.