Faces I Can't Find

There’s a popular trend on most social media platforms, based on the concept of “lost faces”, having memories of loved ones but being unable to remember their faces. I never thought about it twice, because I always assumed I was exempt.  

While trying to work through my amazing writer's block, I searched through my memories for something of relevance. The most I could remember were snapshots of specific places in my mind. The more I thought, the more I could remember. One picture came to mind from when I was in fifth grade:

It was the hallway to my classroom, where there was one long line of half-sized gray lockers we would put our backpacks in. Leading up to the wall were two red-carpeted stairs that went left and right. You would eventually find the office on the right, and more classrooms on the left, including the auditorium and the gym. If you went straight, you would find the library, and then the playground.

It was like I had the whole floor plan in my head. And then I realized—

I did.

I could tell you where every room was in that whole school: my classroom, the science room, the art room, the planetarium, the gym, the two sections of our lunch room, and even where the school iguana lived. I had it all memorized despite not having been there for 6 years. 

As I kept thinking, I felt like I was missing something. It took me 15 minutes until I remembered what I had forgotten about that school from 6 years ago. 

My classmates.

I could not remember a single face, name, or voice of anyone in that school. Even my best friend at the time, all I really know is that we both had names starting with the letter “K” and had brunette hair. Nothing else, and that's the extent of my memories about anyone in that whole school. Just a girl with brunette hair, in a relatively pink outfit, but no face. 

Now this concept felt really real. No matter how much time I took, their faces would never come to me. It was just all a blur. Their faces felt so blank and empty, I couldn’t even remember a single feature. 

It’s honestly creepy imagining kids without any faces. It felt like a horror movie that only existed in my own head, to which I had no escape. In a way, I was disappointed that I could remember the smallest details about this school, but I couldn’t remember a single face or even a name, even though these people meant more to me. I couldn't care less about where exactly the swings were in relation to the door, or how the water fountains were in between the two stairs, or how I waited in the grass near the planetarium to enter the building. 

How could I not remember at least one face, but I could remember the boxes behind the office desk, where the teachers got their mail, and where I got my free book for my birthday, lying on a light grey cart right near the couch in the office?

I can’t tell if remembering would hurt more or less than it does now. All I know is that I can walk through the school perfectly in my mind, but I just can’t find anyone inside of it. 

Still, it does feel like someone is inside of it, but I just can’t see them.