(Written on 23 October 2010)

I fix my eyes onto hers. Beyond the black pupils floated a vague image. I strained my eyes in an attempt to stare deeper into it, trying to create sense out of the blur hallucination flickering behind her eyes. At every blink of the eye, the image threatened to vanish into thin air. I frowned upon the unfathomable message hidden behind her eyes.

Then, it moved. The image slided diagonally downwards and suddenly broke into little pieces. Then I realized the image was a reflection of myself. I was looking at my reflection in a pool of liquid, in a drop of tear. The image slided off the eye and turned distorted as the thin layer of screen crumpled in a blink, as it was squeezed out through the corner of the eye, and streaming quickly yet reluctantly down the cheek.

The drop of tear, as if ashamed to be seen, dashed apologetically down the cheek.
I could see the lethargy and exhaustion in it.
The tear, it had been screaming to escape from the enclosed prison in the eye.
Yet, the eye stubbornly refused to release it.
And now, as if free from captivation, the tear galloped in joy down the cheek.
The moment of joy for the tear merely lasted for a split-second, as the tear was wiped away mercilessly by her hand, and gone forever.

I looked up into her eyes again, and witnessed the resilient resistence to prevent more tears from escaping, yet the floodgates looked vulnerable, as if going to collapse any moment. Cracks started forming as more drops of tears held hends and slided off together. I could not bear myself watching the cruelty of it all.

I felt my cheeks heat up, and as if reflecting what I was seeing, my vision blurred for a split second as I felt my eyes turn watery.

My heart sank, and hit a pitful of thorns. I closed my eyes as the pricks on my heart rattled through my whole body.

A million words rose from my seas of english, japanese and korean vocabularies, yet all of them clashed with each other and sank back in. I could only watch helplessly in despair as these words drowned one by one into the tumultous seas.
No words came out of my mouth.

I shifted my hand and placed it over hers, curling my fingers to wrap around her palm.
Looking back up into her eyes, the tears have stopped, yet I could hear faintly the teardrops rattling the bottom of her heart.

Her hand was cold, and so was mine.

I tightened my grip on her hand, hoping to transmit the message from my heart.
Perhaps the sea was too turbulent, or the winds too wild, the bottle of message seemed to have lost in its directions, or banished to the bottom of the sea and never to be found.

I never wanted to remove my hand, as if in the faintest hope that the bottle of message will reach her, but in reality, I had never released that bottle from my hand, gripping as tightly as I had been onto her hand. I was afraid of letting go, lest it gets submerged into the rampageous seas out there. It then struck a chord in my heart that my fear of loneliness escalated with every second I held her hand.

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