Rick, forgive me for doing this in notes; I’m not strong enough to do it in persons.

I realize now that I’m attracted to you for the same reason I can’t be with you: you can’t change.

And I have no problem with that, but it clearly means I have a problem with myself.

I’m sure there’s no perfect version of me. I’m sure I’ll just unify species after species and never really be complete.

But I know how it goes with us. I lose who I am and become part of you. Because in a strange way, you’re better at what I do without even trying.

Yours, and nobody else’s, 

Unity

These OId Bones

I just suck the fun out of everything. Day by day, the flavor gets muted and the sensation... is far from what it was. I am tired and yet I do not exert enough effort. I am disappointed by so many things. These emotions are not doing me any good.

Sometimes I feel that I do not care enough about the things that really matter and that I put too much weight on things that don't. I am stuck in a roundabout and I'm running out of gas. I think I need to rest these old bones. What you do, what you feel, what you think, along with your sins are not my burden anymore. They are not mine to carry -- the same way that I don't give you a cross to bear.

Talk is cheap. Let's just keep quiet.

###

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

Almost 27 years. I think that's old enough to say that play time is over. 

As a kid, my parents always told me not to pick fights with others. As I grew up, I always thought "Why not?" Especially when you're on the right side of the fence. Trying to make a man out of my own lauds, picking a fight seemed to be a good idea.

Fast forward to year 27, everything seems like a fight-in-the-making. Jokes, exchanges, drinking binges, for Christ's sake -- even driving. Friends can sometimes feel like strangers you'd definitely scoff at on your way to work, and family becomes overbearing at times. Always looking for a fault so I can spew some nasty things at them. Not a good sign. Sometimes, I just want to bury memories and blur faces. But then again, I may just be overthinking.

Again, in a drunk stupor, I ask a buddy of mine what he thinks of this story I told him. I got pissed at him for telling me off, that I was too busy investing time on shit that didn't matter. I shouted in response -- "Well, it matters to me!" Only after waking up the next day with a bad hangover and an even worse buzz brought about by a sudden realization that I came to a conclusion that I do think too much of things that don't really matter. So fuck it, fuck that, fuck you, fuck everything. Less shit for me to take on. Less fake people to rub elbows with, less distractions on my part. And at year 27, that sounds like a good plan.

I need to see less, feel less, worry less to experience more. Some things are just not worth your attention. So instead of goodbye, I say good riddance. It was fun while the booze was in and the food was hot.

###

White Flag

Being at war with yourself is an absurd thought and yet it is very real. The factions, the bullets, the wounds, the scars, the casualties, the truce, the ending of peace talks, the firefights, the meaninglessness of it all.

I have been at war with myself for quite a long time. It was and still is a fiasco in my head. Why did this happen? How did it begin? When will it end? Will it ever end? Maybe it has to do with the fact that I couldn’t and wouldn’t want to surrender for the longest time. Always thinking about how tough I am. A man’s man. You never see a man crying - he never shows it because it’s none of your business. That bullshit kept replaying in my head whenever I relive the moments of my despair and deception.

Blaming everyone but myself was counterproductive. It is a vicious cycle. Even Sid would agree with me here. Always someone else was to be blamed for my misfortunes, never me. Never me who is great, talented, skillful, lovable, admirable, smart, liked and loved by most people.

Also, the fact that you have to mean something in this world didn’t help with the continuous beatings. At 26, you should be this. At 27, you should be earning this much. At 30, you should be ready to settle down. At 35, happy with your own family. At 40, probably retire early and pursue your passions or maybe put up a profitable business to live comfortably the rest of your life. The immense pressure is cracking me up. Seeing friends succeed, seeing them get married, seeing them happy with traveling, seeing them seeing other people - places, opportunities while I rot away in limbo. Wasting away talent and doing away with a mediocre skill set. Trying to find meaning and relevance in a world of measures and standards by which we are judged. Driving the newest car, having the most expensive watch, living the lifestyle that you could have only dreamed of, wearing the most in-the-new trends in fashion, riding the lightest time trial bike... All of those things just whirring in your head even in your sleep is dragging, I tell you.

All of this self defeating self talk will one day be a page in a diary. The troubles of a young mind crippled by debilitating anxiety, trust issues, family quarrels that sometimes turn into violent confrontations, humblebrags from contemporaries, the wanting of a better life and so on. So it goes said Vonnegut. And it will go. I tell you. Everything will go. As for now, I come to understand that without struggle, there is no triumph. Without hardship, nothing is ever worth celebrating. And that wars can come to a complete standstill, they can rage on for as long as you want, and that the fighting never stops until one side drops the guns and the contempt for the other and become the man - if not the BIGGER man. Only I can stop the cycle and the first way that I can do it is to wave my white flag over my head and only pray that the other side stops shooting. Drop everything and surrender. Sometimes it is the only way to win. 

Doon sa malayo
Umaabot ang bulong ng mga alon
Gaano man kaliit at kahina
Darating at babangga sa kabilang dulo ng kongkretong dalampasigan
Makinang sa liwanag ng araw
Tahimik sa paghiwa ng de-makinang mga bangka
Aalis at babalik sa pantalan lulan ang pangangailangan at pagtupad sa pangako ng isa na namang araw
Salamat, umaga.

Disposable
A crumpled piece of letter
Put out cigarette
Lone crown cap
Empty bottle
Used tissue
Each tells a story
Begging an audience
A story laying in wait
Broken in memories
Past and used
Replaceable
In transit, in the moment
Utility in the simplest and most underrated form
Waiting in silence
Picked up until none is left
Much like this instance
A fleeting reminder
Of a past written in present tense
Designed to last a lifetime in idle
We sit and wait
It comes. It goes.
Falling words become ashes that form beds
Straightened, clean, stained by coincidence.
Whatever happens in the morn of this man-made holiday, we are spent.

Go to noisy places to block out the voices in your head.

Move along with the crowd to be truly alone.

Listen intently if you want to speak.

Drink to drown something you want dead inside of you.

To shout all alone in the wild is to whisper your thoughts just so someone may hear you.

...

Writing is a lot like masturbation. You get an itch to do it. Inspiration and musing are your porn. You browse the archives in your head and sift through the infinite thoughts that are rushing in and around your head. Pick one – the perfect clip, the most appetizing idea. And then you go over it in your mind. You have to stroke it to make something happen. It’s not the prettiest thing to say but it’s the truth and the truth usually doesn’t look gorgeous. It is raw, naked, and most likely tastes bad. Writing is something you do to yourself to see if you’re even capable of creating. It’s a practice and only by doing it as many times as you can, only can you become acceptable if not good at it. After the flurry of ideas, the falling of letters onto paper, you look at what you came up. Read it. Read it again. Read it some more. Did you like what you created? Don’t feel bad. Do it again. You only feel two things after you do the deed. Ecstasy – seeing what you created, being happy with the outcome, savouring the direction of it all. Or you feel guilty after. You loathe. You regret you even made the decision to do it in the first place. You feel disgust but that’s okay. No one is without sin just as no single piece of poetry or prose is infallible and the all-time great. Just remember - it’s all in the wrist.

WB

This is a test.

A friend dropped a book on my desk to help me with my self-imposed writer’s block. Funny thing about it is that the book is titled “Writer’s Block” and literally looks like a block. It’s composed of different writing exercises to help writers get a move on in their creative pursuit.

Here are some of my handpicked exercises and the pieces I had written to “answer” them.

“Write about the worst driving you’ve ever done.”

I’m a terrible person behind the wheel. My worst driving experience was during one of my father’s birthdays. We started this particular celebration by drinking at around 9 a.m. I excused myself from work, told my boss that I got sick the night before from trying to get a 

gift for my old man. What a piece of shit.

As always when we drink, we drank hard. It was a binge fest. After a couple 3 bottles of liquor, we cleaned up and drove to another spot to meet different people to “celebrate” a bit more. I was the one driving. I passed out on the table after a few beers and only remembered waking up and paying for the tab. I was piss drunk but I insisted that I should be the one to drive. After all, my father was far better at this game than me.

So to finish off, the worst driving I’ve ever done was something I can’t entirely remember. And the worst thing about it is I lived to write about it. What dumb luck.

“Outcast”

Poetry night, every night. Bottles of beer stood proudly on the table. They are inviting in their emptiness. Another night of solitude for Jake. Two women made their way to their spot. He didn’t even blink. They shot down that plane even before it took off. They said they were Jersey boys – two young salesmen peddling their wares on the streets. They didn’t know their product was not currency in this town. The management didn’t allow strangers to hold the mic.

“Valentine’s Day”

These yuppies are hooked. It wasn’t E. Meth was too country for this crowd and besides, who else in their honest mind would want their teeth to fall out? Also, too much stuff is needed to smoke that shit. The bulb looks too messy. Foil is brittle and obvious. Don’t get me started on the smell and the taste. That shit is just nasty. But this, this is the drug of tomorrow. It’s something that you can actually enjoy putting in your mouth. Sweet with a bit of tang. Wait for it. Wait for it. There. It’s a “lay me down” shit is what it is. A sting on the end will pull you back. But remember, look for the brand “SO FINE” to know that you’re getting grade A stuff. You should be able to read it on that heart-shaped candy. If it looks cracked and all brittle, walk away. Get your money’s worth.

“Bad Hair Day”

Fuck it. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Ay yo what’s the hold up? Let’s go! Let’s go!

Shit. This thing is itchy as hell! Fucking fucks.

What you gotta wear that piece of shit thing for huh?

Shut up man. Just let me do my thing and I’ll let you do yours, ayt?! I ain’t messing with 

your do, man.

All I’m saying is why wear a wig when you can just wear a mask?

Yo, people in that joint ain’t gonna complain that Donald Trump hit them.

You have such bad taste.

I wouldn’t go that far to describe your sister, man.

“Voyeur”

The cat lady on 10^th. I wonder how many cans of tuna does she go through a week?

 Mr. Douchebag on the 9^th. It’s not Porsh. It’s Por-shuh. Suck a dick.

  Emily on 8^th. Really? Mr. 9^th Floor?

   7^th. Looks like Ray isn’t home yet.

    6^th. Those two brewers have really good taste in music.

     5^th. Still empty.

      Jesus Christ that brunette on 4^th has a rocking body.

        3^rd floor. Shit. I forgot to turn off the light in the kitchen. Good thing I~~~

                                                                        ...

I am poisoned.

I am poison.

The face in the mirror is unrecognizable.

He wonders what had happened to the crusade.

Battle born.

Scarred with self-inflicted wounds.

Who is this person?

Why does he look tired?

Maybe it’s because of all the feigning.

There is no antidote.

No panacea.

Just more alcohol

And cigarettes

And ashes

And smoke

And fast women.

It pays to be free.

You pay to ONLY believe

that you are free.

I’ve spent more than what my body can cash in.

I’d like to think that I’m the spider.

Yet I am the fly.

Pagluha. Banayad na dumaloy ang bawat patak sa iyong mukha. Marahan. Payapa. Sinasalungat ito ng dibdib mong di matimpi ang alimpuyo ng damdamin, apoy, at alaala. Tila isang dibuho kung saan nag-aagaw ang kulay at mensahe. Sa bawat guhit, ikaw ang inaalala ngunit pilit mong nililimot.


###

Tayo at Sila

Tayong mga nasisilaw sa kintab ng mga bagay
Tayong mga nagsisikap para sa luho
Tayong mga sabik na magpakitang gilas
Tayong sawa sa mga kapritsohan ng buhay ngunit patuloy na bumibili
Tayong mga sumusuko sa kalsada ngunit gigising kinabukasan para sumabak uli
Tayong mga bulag, pipi at bingi - nagmamaang maangan sa hinagpis ng estado
Tayong mga walang pakialam sa kanila

Silang walang mga mukha
Silang walang mga pangalan
Silang mga walang tirahan
Silang silat sa katarungan
Silang mga nakabukas ang palad
Silang mga sabik sa dunong at pagkakataon na ipinagkakait
Silang mas mapagbigay pa kahit sariling isusubo na lang ay inaagaw pa
Sila sana ang nauna pero tayo pa rin ang mabilis

Tayo ang maramot sa katiting na handog
Tayo ang ilag sa kanila dahil sa kanilang panlabas na itsura
Tayo ang lumalayo dahil sa mga konseptong nakatanim sa isipan natin
Tayo ang sakim at sarili lamang ang iniisip
Tayo ang kawawa sa huli
Ginhawa o konsensya?

Unread letter

Remembering can be a burden and forgetting, a gift. It's a pain to know that you will always choose yo relive the memories I would rather blur in my head.
 
Your face is the look of disappointment. A never ending loop of the creasing of your forehead and the plummeting of your lips keep playing inside my head. It is what it is, I guess but I can only hope for a reprieve, a stay, a pardon but only in my wildest fantasies can it come true.


I drink to blur that look in your face. Bottle after bottle and I'm half past angry. I try to kill something in me and the best thing I can think of is ordering another double of whiskey, neat. Id rather forget the way it numbs my mouth, then my throat, then my head and finally the wound inside of me that I have yet to find.


I will forget you. I will try not to remember just as I know you would.


...

Maybe

“Maybe? Maybe if we really do become strangers again by some way of magic or a scientific experiment gone wrong, I feel I’d still be drawn to you naturally. And it’d be fun to kiss you again for the first time. I need not be drunk the second time around.”

Scribbles

"Did you practice when you were little?"

My pint-sized god was talking to me. I looked at him with every ounce of adoration I still have left. His red cheeks were glowing in the summer light. His black hair shiny and swayed with the cool wind. This boy is my salvation. It pains me to think that in a matter of hours, we must part again.

"I like you, Daddy."

My heart melted. I held his face and smiled. I haven't had a reason to smile like this in a very long time.

So you wanna be CEO?

Things start with a romantic idea. No, not that kind of romance – no star-crossed lovers, musicals, birds chirping and riding off into the sunset sort of things. You can’t contain your inspiration any longer. After months of deliberation, you decide to leave it all behind and stick with your guns. It feels right. It seems like the most wonderful thing ever. You pull the trigger – you start your own business. Well, at least you thought you did.

Here’s the thing: you’re not in a movie or a cancelled TV series (I’m looking at you How To Make It In America. Guys, please. You have to do another season!) where everything seems so shiny and wonderful. Starting a business on your own is a big thing. And if you’re one of those young adults who still aren’t used to adulting just yet, chances are things won’t go so well right off the bat. But what’s success without a little struggle, right?

I may be rambling but hear me out. So far, here are some things I’ve learned in 6-month long attempt in starting my own business:

Starting your own business will not be easy and it shouldn’t.

You are building your company from the ground up. You should put your back into it. Working for other people is different from working for yourself. CEOs get to sit on top of the mountain because they know how difficult the climb was. And besides, challenging times will make for great stories someday.

Stick to your guns. If your gut tells you something, go for it!

I can’t count the times that I thought to myself “I should have” and “I shouldn’t have done that.” Your instinct is there for a reason. Trust it and see what happens. It’s sure as hell better than doing nothing. Risk is and will always be an occupational hazard. Without it, how else are you going to succeed? If you want something bad enough, you need to go at it hard. Go big or go home.

Fear is both friend and foe.

It is a motivator, a teacher, a rival. Are you afraid that you won’t make it in the long run? Good, that means you’re aware of what could happen if you don’t do the things you need to do. Even when things are going great, you’d still have that sliver of fear at the back of your mind. Don’t feed your fear but do everything in the best of your ability to emerge as the victor. Let go of inhibitions, they will just drag you down.

Plan ahead.

Think things through twice, three times, four times. Focus on your goal and map out the road to your endgame. Leaving things to chance is probably not the wisest business plan out there. Once you plan things, you can keep your progress in check. Plus, you can finally put that planner of yours into good use. You did pay for it with all those Starbucks drinks you ordered last Yuletide season.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

It’s good that you want to do things on your own. DIY or die, right? But there’s also nothing wrong with getting by with a little help. Seek the counsel of your wiser peers. Consult books and do your research. The more you know, the better you’ll get at the whole business thing. Discipline is remembering what you want. Don’t let your pride get the better of you because sometimes, all you have to do is ask.

I’m still learning the ropes in this whole business thing so I’ll keep this tab open. For the meantime, I’ll have my pen and paper ready for more lessons.

Today

My mother always told me to say a little prayer every morning when I wake up. She says it’s a little gesture of appreciation for the gift of life. The same goes every night.

Today, here are the things I am grateful for:

1.  I am grateful for the gift of health. 

I am feeling better than yesterday. My cough is still here but it hurts a lot less now.

2.  I am grateful for the food on my plate and the person who prepared it for me. 

Usually, a nominal ‘thank you’ would suffice but not today. Appreciation shouldn’t be a memorized two-word sentence.

3.  I am grateful for the roof over my head for I am able to sleep soundly at night. 

It keeps me warm when the rain comes. It keeps me under its shade when the sun is up.

4.  I am grateful for I have all of my senses. 

Even during times when my common sense and sense of humor are nowhere to be found.

5.  I am grateful for the ability to laugh, anytime, anywhere and with anyone.

It only means happiness still keeps me company.

6.  I am grateful for the work on my desk. 

These pending tasks are a reminder that I have a responsibility and that I am trusted.

7.  I am grateful for the love of our pets. 

They never fail to greet me whenever I come home from a long day on the road. They’d always run towards me as I slow down to park the car. They are creatures of God who have nothing but love flowing in their veins.

8.  I am thankful for the privileges I receive. 

I have more than what I need and for that I am truly fortunate.

9.  I am grateful for the little things. 

The fact that it did not rain while I was driving today, that I got home safe, for the quiet time I had while I had my late lunch.

10.  Lastly, I am grateful for the ability to notice these things – great or small. 

Things can get so blurry when you’re busy living.

It feels good to know that you have so much to be thankful for.

Unfinished, Kindness

I wanted to write an entry for the Palanca 2014 but couldn't quite make it. I am this unfinished piece of work and it's a bad and good thing. Bad due to the fact that I can't push myself to finishing this article even though I sorely wanted to. Good because I know that there's still room for me to grow.

This is a snippet of my story. It is raw, unedited, and almost unfiltered. Maybe this piece will find itself inside an envelope and make its way to its original destination. But for now, this tiny space will have to do.

...

Kindness is a word that I try to familiarize myself with. It’s because no matter what happens, I find reasons to be unkind to people; even to those who matter the most to me. And now, I’m writing a laundry list of the things that I’ve done that need to be washed and washed again. It’s a dirty job but I know that I need to do this.

Life has been good for me. I really couldn’t complain. I graduated from a respectable school, I had friends and family who supported me all throughout my studies and now, I’m working as a copywriter for a foreign company. If this isn’t sweet and splendid, then I don’t know what is. I look at all of this as a great kindness shown to me by the many powers that I can’t understand. Maybe it’s God’s hidden hand that move all these things to go towards the direction I’m in or if it’s just destiny that predetermines these rewards.

To be honest, I have a weird way of looking at things. I tend to be a pessimist when it comes to good times. I always have a weird gut feel that after the good times come, something terrible is going to happen and it’s just waiting around the corner to drain the color out of me. It’s true and that’s why I always reserve something before ending the festivities. And when the lights go dim, the drinks have been emptied and the food has been feasted upon, my anxiety towards the supposed bad things that are going to happen just grow bigger than ever. It dawns on me that the good times just pass on and that I have to brace myself for the coming hits. Or maybe it’s just a stupid belief that I have.

Although I said earlier that life has been good, it doesn’t really mean that everything has become smooth sailing. The mere 5 years I spent in college was not really a walk in the park for me. For the first two years, I believed that college was the best thing that has ever happened to me and that the beer and hard liquor won’t stop pouring and that the good things in life will get handed to me right after I get that stupid piece of paper that they call a diploma. It was the greatest lie I tried so hard to believe in. But when reality hit me in the face that I was a jobless, skill-less, wasting third-year college student who had a baby on the way with his also young girlfriend, the game changed. It was no longer a game. And I found it so hard to see kindness in what kind of a card life had dealt me. It was a complete and total change of everything I imagined.

Gone were the future parties, the possible hook-ups and meets with young and foolish people who had nothing but their youth to hold on to. Now, it was all about finishing school, trying to graduate on time or in the shortest time possible, saving up for the hospital bills, moonlighting on our free time and saying sorry to our parents who were clearly disappointed in what had happened. Kindness became an elusive thing for me. I felt that I was given a harsh lesson on life and that what I needed to do was become spiteful and bitter. I was turned black with disappointment in myself and the “good life” I had always known. I felt betrayed in the strongest sense of the word.

And so my journey began. I tried my hardest to reassure my girlfriend that we’re going to get through all of it and smile when we look back at the hard times. It was us against the world. We soldiered through our studies and finished school. Her parents were obviously hard on her. I get it. It was not an easy thing to swallow. Having your youngest daughter stay with you while she was with child was not a thing you let slip so easily. They schooled us every day with their terse remarks and austere affection. It pained me to see my girlfriend go through all of those things because of what we had done. I felt helpless, I felt small. Again, I felt as if the kindness in the world was going the opposite direction we were headed.

Although now that I think about it, the cold treatment they showed us was not an effort to shun us for what had happened. It was done in order to toughen us up. They took us in, helped us learn hands-on when it comes to dealing with things that are now beyond our control. Her parents drove hard bargains and at first we didn’t understand. But that was their way of showing that we are not the sum of our past deeds however disappointing they were. We were weaned on the gritty lessons in their home. I realize now that maybe they thought it best to give us the challenge instead of letting people who don’t really understand a thing about what we were going through judge us for our mess. Now that burden of betrayal I was talking about earlier start to feel light, they are being lifted from our shoulders and thrown into the wind. Maybe if they were showy, they would have given us a tap on the shoulder and a thrift nod. No more, no less. It will mean the world to me to see that happen but nevertheless I am thankful for what they have and have not done for us. I am immensely thankful.

My parents and I are not really close until that fateful event happened. I still remember the phone call I had made to my mom when we confessed to my girlfriend’s parents that we were expecting. Everything’s still fresh in my memory – my trembling voice, the crackling of my sobs and the loving tone of my mother’s voice. There was a long silence before my voice started shaking and the tears began to flow. “Mom, my girlfriend’s pregnant. I don’t know what to do.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “Come home. Straight away.” And so I did. The first few steps I took inside the house felt like a distant memory but the hollow feeling is still memorable. The ten steps I needed to get inside the house felt like great strides – laborful and forced. Walking during that moment became a task. And when I saw my mom’s face, I couldn’t help but breakdown and just embrace her for the kindness she showed me. My father was about to go home from a trip abroad. I confessed and he just gave me a tight hug. I told them the whole story and they were with me every day since. They backed me up on every decision, gave nothing but the best counsel and took nothing from me but my qualms and the seething pain. It hurt me because I felt that I had disappointed them but they never were disappointed. They told me that time and time again. It was a kindness that I still aim to repay, one way or another. The burden was starting to lift itself from my shoulders.

There is always this belief that I’ve had when it comes to dealing with the good stuff that comes my way. I see myself as a very fortunate person. I use the term “fortunate” since I really don’t believe in the idea of luck. It’s one of the many weird quirks that I have. And after being a father at 19, I somehow believed that I lived off the kindness of people. I always looked at the nice things that have happened in my life as works of charity and that these people are merely being kind to some unfortunate fellow. I couldn’t complain about that but being a proud person (it’s a trait I’m not personally fond of,) it was definitely hard for me to swallow all of those things. Even the people who knew my story were thought of doing what they have done just out of pity. Although, I do know better to think of them in that manner.

But now I understand that people are kind because that’s the way we are wired. It is innate in every human being, even the despicable ones we so loathe in society or shun in our everyday lives. Kindness just happens although you’d need a conscious effort to keep being kind not only to others but to yourself. It’s one of the greatest gifts that mankind can possess. It can prevent wars, it can mend wounds, and create better and stronger bonds or relationships. What good about it is that it can come from the most unexpected places, people, and deeds.

Going back to my laundry list, I really have a lot of people to give thanks to. But I’ll just start with a few from the top of my head. And my advisors during my last years in college will get this ball rolling. Two of my most trusted and admired professors became my advisors in a lot of things during my years in college. Aside from mentoring me inside the classroom where they both taught communication courses, they managed to take me under their wings when it came to the other lessons I couldn’t learn in the classroom. And not only that, they gave me nothing but the best counsel there is. And maybe that’s partly because they’re both mothers – one being a cool matriarch who always has a menthol cigarette tucked between her teeth and the other being a strong-willed woman who has an eyebrow sharp enough to cut you in ribbons. Both of them are not afraid to let out scathing remarks when it came to talking about personal matters. I even became subject to their little disciplinary sessions. But nevertheless, they are some of the nicest people I know. And I think that’s a bit of an understatement.

...

What Good Shall I Do This Day?

It’s the 1970s. A 30-something man makes his way across the Golden Gate Bridge. He’s passed by pedestrians and cyclists, and steps around tourists taking pictures of Alcatraz, Angel Island, and the channel of water below that runs between San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. He gazes up at the reddish-orange towers soaring above, and then climbs over the bridge’s four-foot safety railing. He steps out onto a 32-inch wide beam known as “the chord,” pauses, takes one last long look out at the bay, and then jumps. His body plummets 220 feet and violently hits the water at 75 mph. The impact breaks his ribs, snaps his vertebrae, and pulverizes his internal organs and brain. The Coast Guard soon arrives to recover his limp, lifeless body.

When the medical examiner later located and searched the jumper’s sparse apartment, he found a note the man had written and left on his bureau. It read:

“I’m going to walk to the bridge. If one person smiles at me on the way, I will not jump.”

Original post from The Art of Manliness

10 word story # 12

"We are oil and water. That's all we'll ever be."