Sitting late at the corner of the room, my Vision is filled with faces young and scared of the new world they have voluntarily subjected their minds to. The man who has been standing, watching each person describe themselves, eyes me and with a plastic grin nods at my existence, giving rise to other creeping gazes. One gaze across the room piers out of a round face and thin eyes as if they were sparkling blue reflections, I find it impossible to keep the stare much like an ocular showdown with the sun. I gather my collection of things as I sit but the eyes I still remember as they now connect with my peer exposing trivials to the audience. When my turn arrives and I announce my history through my inclinations in meaningless details soon to change, I see the eyes now looking into me as her hair now too glows from the sun making the cliche halo around her head. That will be an angel among men that I will never meet or even come close enough to touch. The object of desire that the whole room must agree is ideal. But the eyes continue to see me and make their ever-lasting mark in this presumptuous freshman ready to take on the world.