I always felt like I was being observed, ever since I was a little kid. I could feel eyes on me. Adults said it was stress or pressure. I knew better.

When I was a kid I used to naively picture some sort of ghost or ghoul, following my every footstep, breathing every breath with me. I imaged a cartoonish villain, a boogeyman I could point and scream at.

When I was eleven I wanted to see my specter. To make it know what it felt like to be seen. I wandered out into the fields. Tan, rolling hills, as far as the eye could see. The straw-colored grass collapsed under the dusty blue sky stained with dull clouds. It made a little swish, swish as I walked through it. I felt like I was walking down an aisle in a church, towards an altar. Or towards a casket.

I walked for about 30 minutes until it was just me and the hills. I spun around, looking for my audience. There was no one there. There were thousands of eyes on me. There was no one there. Panic seeped into me through my skin. There was no one there. Terror jolted me, there had to be someone there, there had to be someone looking at me, how else could I be watched? There was no one there. The eyes observed me, simultaneously impersonal and engaged. There was no one there. I spun around again and again, then I started running through the hills, frantically searching for what was watching me. There was no one there.

I don't know how long I ran, but it was long enough to make little eleven-year-old me collapse to the ground. I laid on the crunchy grass, looking up at the murky blue sky stained by grey clouds. I decided to stay there until I caught my breath.

No words can describe what happened next. Whatever you are picturing in your head, is not what happened. It didn't close then open, it didn't flicker, it didn't have an eye like us, it didn't do anything you are thinking of right now. The cloud blinked.

I stayed frozen. Time started to melt. I couldn't say how much later it was, but later, another cloud blinked.

They were all watching. All the clouds were watching. The sky was a cacophony of eyes. Constantly observing, constantly watching, silently staring at everything. Clouds were a witness to everything. Everything.

There was no one there, and there were so many watching me.

Nowadays I avoid open spaces. It's easier to cope with being watched if you can pretend someone is watching. I usually wear hoodies or hats, but I know it doesn't make a difference. The clouds will see me no matter what I do. They have to. I can't go to my car, go to my office, go to the grocery store without them knowing. They bear witness to everything we do. Everything you do. They know all of us.

The clouds have eyes. And they're watching.