Hello, I'm a pair of glasses. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.

For my one, I am a window of clarity and understanding. "My one" being the man who wears me. The one whom I was carefully crafted for.

This man is normally kind and gentle. Though being a window of understanding, I've seen every side to that human being. Perhaps more than most.

I can tell you everything about him. What time he wakes up, what he does for fun, what his activities are during the day, what his activities are during the night… Given the amount of time spent with this person, I've grown to know him quite intimately.

Through me, I've witnessed a life's story - either worth writing about, or not worth writing about.

But speaking of write-worthy events, he's had a bit of trouble only but a few moments ago. You see, he has – or wishes to have, to realistically clarify - a lover, who, up until recently, has been quite the dilemma.

My one has a bit of difficulty dealing with uncertain feelings, I can tell you that much. Oftentimes, he will vocalize his opinions in solitude (to himself and me, of course, his eager listener, eavesdropping). He talks about that man; laughs about him, cries about him…

Such emotions are quite difficult for my one to comprehend. However, I can see plainly that it's love. And yet he often wonders aloud regarding those ever-unfamiliar feelings. And so, in my slight frustration, while he may be unaware of the sensation, it's obvious to me.

Regarding today, however. To all, I apologize for straying off-topic. Given the chance to speak one's feelings doesn't come around very often for a pair of glasses, such as myself.

I played witness once more, as he spoke with his potential significant other. My one came clean to the man he so adored, and told him exactly what he felt - however unsure he may have been.

Unfortunately, no such feelings were returned. He is a sensitive man and was unable to easily cope with such rejection.

It has become nighttime now. Nonchalantly, he removes his glasses; me, the only thing that maintains his tired eyes their clarity. I sit motionless on the bathroom counter, watching as he strips his clothing to ready himself for a well-deserved bath. It is around that time, after all.

Sweltering-hot water begins to flow into the tub. Throughout the small room, I can already feel steam rising, fogging my own glass windows.

Moments pass after the water has been at last shut off, and my one remains unfazed; barely moving and unspeaking. He leans back, he thinks for a moment, when a gradual look of frustration overtakes his gorgeous features. Frustration with a hint of loneliness, and a sadness that I cannot express linguistically.

Nonetheless, his silence gives me an opportunity to think to myself.

Perhaps the other man – the once fantasized lover - will rethink, for "my one's" sake. After all, he did seem somewhat attached to him. But perhaps – on the other hand - my one will simply move on, as does time itself. Or perhaps he will still attempt to make it towards his goal. I wonder if maybe he finds it unworthy now. At this point, I am uncertain as to what the outcome will be.

I feel proud of my one, because he made an attempt. I feel saddened by his pain, which he did not deserve, but perhaps, he expected. But moreover, I feel like this situation will bring change; for better or for worse.

But alas, there is only so much I can do for my one. I cannot console, I cannot offer any advice. And yet, I still feel that without me, he is blind and utterly lost.