Thursday, February 2, 2017

HIV screening and the hiring process

Bestfriend called up a while ago to just ask about things and update me on his job search. He's in the restaurant management industry and aiming for higher position.

Throughout the conversation, he told me that this one classy cafe asked him to do an HIV test during the hiring process. I stopped him short and asked to repeat what he said. Apparently, even if he knows my condition, he doesn't know that what he underwent was illegal. So I told him to go in with how he went through the process. In sum, it went like this:

He was asked to do a medical test with HIV test in it. It was done outside (I'm not sure if it was the diagnostics laboratory affiliate of the cafe with its hiring process). The HIV counselor did the routine interrogation as regards his last sexual contact. My bestfriend answered. He was told that if the medical staff won't give him a text message the following day, it meant that he was non-reactive; that if he received a text, then that was it. Following day, no text received. Just to make sure, he called the laboratory and indeed the counselor, through phone, told him that it was non-reactive.

I could not but stress that what he went through was--under clear provisions of the law--illegal; that's clear under Sec. 35 of RA 8504. Bestfriend could not believe that it was illegal. I reassured him that it was unfair and illegal and I could not just imagine the emotional rollercoaster any applicant had to go through with that kind of policy. True enough, he was nerve-wracked during the testing because if the result comes out as reactive, he wouldn't know what to do and how to go on with the the employment process.

I told him different scenarios--to attack and to defend--the cafe's policy on HIV screening during the hiring process.

1. It's no brainer under the law that what is prohibited and set down in clear words should not be done directly or indirectly. RA 8504 has a prohibitive provision, which means "Bawal gawin" (the antonym is "positive provision").  And I quote, Sec. 35: "Discrimination in any form from pre-employment to post-employment, including hiring, promotion or assignment, based on the actual, perceived or suspected HIV status of an individual IS PROHIBITED." (Emphasis supplied)

2. It does not matter if the result of the prospective employee is non-reactive. Even if the result turns out negative, it is not an argument that no law was violated. Ubi lex non distinguit, nec nos distinguere debemus. Where the law does not distinguish, we ought not to distinguish. Since there is nothing set down in the law which provides for distinction, we should not create arguments that since bestfriend was found negative, then no law was trespassed. The only thing that the law prohibits is when there is discrimination.

3. As regards, discrimination. One may argue that it is not the HIV testing during the hiring process that is prohibited. It is actually discrimination. Point taken. But that creates a confusion when the law is applied. Sec 3 of RA 8504 does not define what "discrimination" is, which makes things confusing. Because if, for example, X was found to be reactive after submitting himself to the medical test, and he was denied application to the job, since the law does not define what discrimination is in connection to HIV testing, it creates a legal loophole. The employer may reason out that the employee is not accepted because he fails in certain qualifications, when in truth and in fact, it was his status that was the basis of his non-acceptance. This is what we call in law as, "What cannot be legally done directly cannot be done indirectly."

1. The cafe is in the food and beverage industry. Perhaps the only reason they wanted to enforce such policy is not to discriminate but to actually enforce higher protection in food preparation. Since not all food requires exposure to fire which kills the virus (e.g. salad, drinks, etc) the cafe may have been only be well-meaning when it enforced HIV screening in its hiring process; this is to make sure that if a PLHIV will be employed, he will be given the best area to work on with lower risk of being wounded (i.e. knife cuts).

2. The cafe may also be providing higher premiums to its PLHIV employees. The only course though that they may know who is positive from who is not is by subjecting its applicants to a screening. This is highly a conjecture and supposition. So even if my bestfriend is not applying for a position in the kitchen (he is applying a managerial/supervisory position), still he is asked to undergo the screening.

The only reason that I can see where HIV testing in hiring procedure is defensible is when the HIV status imposes high risk on the job. The "rational connection" as the Labor Code provides. If there is higher risk of exposure to other people because of the job's nature, then HIV screening may be argued as to why it is needed. For example, when the job requires to deal with sharp instruments or food preparation or in healthcare or even in some industries, like bars or clubs or brothels, that is, the "entertainment" officers.

Always remember that you have a choice to back out from the hiring process if it comes along with HIV testing. Once you submit to the testing knowing fully well that you are already positive and that the position you are applying for does not have any connection with HIV exposure, the employer may argue (if in case in the future you complain) that you WAIVED your right to privacy. Waiver of a right is a direct and voluntary loss of any future claims against someone. Ginusto mo eh. Bakit ka magrereklamo ngayon? So when it appears to you that you have higher risk of being detected as PLHIV, weigh your pros and cons. And when you believe that being undetected is more important than a job in that company, stop and discontinue the process. There may be loss of job opportunity on your part, but you still did exercise your right to privacy and confidentiality.

P.S. I was surprised and disappointed to know that that cafe is employing HIV screening in its hiring process. Okay pa naman doon.

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

abandonment to death

Yesterday, I read Kuya Drew’s blog (click here) where he recounted the death of a PLHIV who was abandoned by his family and taken care of by the hospital staff until his death. The first idea that struck me is how could people, (relatives for that matter, and relatives by blood to underscore) turn their back against their own? Obviously, it was distressing.

I guess part and parcel of my confusion is my own question. I was asking if there's a way, at least legally, for that to not happen again or at least for the people to be reminded that it’s a bad case of familial treachery.

There is nothing in Republic Act 8504 (HIV/AIDS Law) that speaks of penalties as regards abandonment. I turned to my Criminal Law books and remembered the crime of “abandonment,” which is Art. 275, par. 1 of the Revised Penal Code and which provides:

Any one who shall fail to render assistance to any person whom he shall find in an uninhabited place wounded or in danger of dying, when he can render such assistance without detriment to himself, unless such omission shall constitute a more serious offense.

To my appreciation, the case of M cannot be a simple case of abandonment. The elements of the crime do not fit the situation. If Art. 275 will be used, the prosecutors will look at Nurse Ann, because it was she who found M. But she rendered assistance--heroically, I must say--so that takes off Art. 275 from possible crimes that can be charged.

Also, a grand defense that may come to light is, “Is a hospital an ‘uninhabited’ place? How will we define ‘uninhabited’ place?” The wording of the law is clear. “Uninhabited” imports the idea that the place was not dwelled upon permanently or temporarily.

We scratch out Art. 275. How about murder?

This is where the situation becomes sticky because I assume there is no previous case of abandoning a PLHIV has been filed against those who abandoned the person. Meaning, there is no “test case.” There is no precedent. (At least that which I know).

Art. 248 of the RPC is murder. But before a person can file a case of murder, the prosecutor will first “assess” the situation to check if any of the six qualifying circumstances is present, to wit:

1. With treachery, taking advantage of superior strength, with the aid of armed men, or employing means to weaken the defense or of means or persons to insure or afford impunity;
2. In consideration of a price, reward, or promise;
3. By means of inundation, fire, poison, explosion, shipwreck, stranding of a vessel, derailment or assault upon a street car or locomotive, fall of an airship, by means of motor vehicles, or with the use of any other means involving great waste and ruin;
4. On occasion of any of the calamities enumerated in the preceding paragraph, or of an earthquake, eruption of a volcano, destructive cyclone, epidemic or other public calamity;
5. With evident premeditation; or,
6. With cruelty, by deliberately and inhumanly augmenting the suffering of the victim, or outraging or scoffing at his person or corpse.

Any of these six qualifying circumstance must be attendant to the situation before murder can be charged against the person who left M.

Criminal law experts and opinion-makers will tell that “cruelty” is not attendant to the case. Cruelty involves unnecessary physical harm--injuries or wounds to be exact--inflicted against the person which led to his death.

I would say that if a person leaves a PLHIV in a hospital for the latter to die, the complainants can use either “with treachery” (par. 1) or “with evident premeditation” (par. 5). Depending on the situation, I’d see “evident premeditation” more fitting.

“Evident premeditation” has 3 elements which must be fulfilled before prosecutors can use that to qualify the death of a person and to file a murder case against the accused, to wit:
1. The time when the offender determined to commit the crime;
2. An act manifestly indicating that the culprit has clung to his determination; or
3. A sufficient lapse of time between the determination and execution (to allow him to reflect on its consequences).

One by one, let’s do this.
1.      First element: The offenders can be argued to have committed the crime at the time when the PLHIV patient was left in the hospital. For lack of any information about the case, it can be argued that at the moment M was admitted in the hospital, the persons have already known that M’s condition was a situation that the relatives cannot admit; hence, death by intentionally leaving M was the only way for the family. It is at the point when the persons who left M were determined to commit the crime.
2.      Second element: The offenders can be argued that they clung to their determination in leaving M to die (as harsh at that). We can look at hospital records or even have Nurse Ann file an affidavit to show if the hospital truly followed up the situation of M to his parents or relatives after they had him admitted in the hospital. If the relatives never bothered acting upon the hospital’s follow-up, it can signify that they want to abandon him. It is at this stage that the hospital will be instrumental in proving that there was "intention" on the part of those who abandoned to truly say that M was indeed "left to die" despite calls of attention from the medical staff.
3.      Third element: The offenders can be argued to have left M for a sufficient time. Case laws opine that three hours is enough to check if the offender indeed wanted to carry out intention to kill towards fruition. In this case, if hospital records will bear that there was time--sufficient and long enough--for prosecutors to opine that indeed those who abandoned M was acting on an impulse to leave him languishing in his death bed, then it follows that the intention to kill is present.

At present, my position is to use the fullest extent of law to give the death of a PLHIV a semblance of justice here on Earth; and that is to file a murder case against those who recklessly abandoned him. If a murder case will not prosper, the prosecutor can always use homicide as a resort. (Homicide and murder are cognate crimes.) I could be that cold-hearted as well.

One may ask, “Well, the relatives of M do not really want him to die. Why should we file a murder case?” The death of a person under the hands of those who abandoned him (even if there are people, like Nurse Ann, who helped along the way) disregards “intent to kill.” The law provides that only “by means of inundation, fire, poison… (Art. 248, par. 3)” must intent to kill be present. In other qualifying circumstances such as evident premeditation, the intent to kill may not even be an issue for the trial court to explore.

As for who should file the case, it can be argued that under the doctrine of parens patriae, the State (in the case, the People of the Philippines) can initiate the complaint in behalf of M. The parens patriae rule is used in rape cases and child abuse cases. It should be sufficient to argue that it must equally apply in murder cases, especially in the stunning case of M who was abandoned to death.

But the moral question here is will we allow an eye for eye to turn us all blind? For leaving M to die, in what sense do we want those who abandoned M to possibly languish behind bars? The law can be cold, especially criminal law which is frigid. But where do we draw the line between giving the death of the PLHIV justice and correcting the possible maleducation of those who abandoned which also needs equal attention. 

Then again, what really bothers me is (arguably, family dynamics, knowledge of HIV, and knowledge to access of healthcare considered) why do we still have to use the threat of law as a motivation to help? Shouldn't helping a person, who is already in the autumn of his life, a core of our humanity?

I slept at 11 p.m. yesterday partly because of the weight that clung to my chest. I woke up at 3 a.m. still figuring out an evasive answer.

Thursday, October 6, 2016

from deathbed and beyond

I was going boing boing boing at 4 a.m. a while ago because efavirenz high is taking over me. Until a fellow pozzie (let's call him A, hereafter) messaged me, "Si partner na stroke."

There was a sudden stop to whatever fantasizing I'm having in my head. It turned out that what I read was real and A's non-positive partner is in the hospital's ICU--already revived twice.

If that is not already heartbreaking, what was more devastating is that A (as I grasped it from his story) could be somewhere in the waiting room of the hospital because of a "family-only" policy. Sakit 'di ba? For eight years of love and bliss, still you are not a "family."

At 4 a.m., while I am floating in my head with stupid ideations, here I have a friend whose heart is crushed when he told me: "I don't know what to do without him." The weight of those words decimated my entirety.

It didn't take too long when I recalled this one discussion the class had in Persons and Family Law--area of civil law where we discuss relations of the family from cradle to grave. We were already at the last stretch of the course, talking about "Provisions on Funerals" when I, in my curiosity and operating from a same-sex point of view, asked my professor if only legal spouses are allowed to have the finaly say about the funeral rites of their beloved.

My professor agreed. Jurisprudence-wise, the Supreme Court in the recent case of Valino v. Adriano (G.R. No. 182894, 2014), the Court said that "Even if a deceased person has validly expressed his wish to be buried at the mausoleum of his paramour’s family, the deceased’s legal wife has the legal right to bury the deceased elsewhere, because the deceased’s wishes are compulsory only with respect to the ‘form’ of his funeral" (Link here).

The reason is simple: Philippine family law does not recognize common law unions, except in the case of co-ownership. But in the sentimental and often highly emotional area of funeral and last wishes, it will be the legal spouse which will have the final say.

At this rate, who are those who should fix the funerals? In the strict order given by the Civil Code (Art. 305 in relation to Art. 199), the following are: (1) The spouse; (2) The descendants in the nearest degree; (3) The ascendants in the nearest degree; and (4) The brothers and sisters.

Unfortunately, the "spouse" there must be the legitimate civil spouse, not the common-law spouse. So imagine yourself being entrusted with your lover's final words and after your lover's passing, you tell his mother (your "mother-in-law), "Tita, gusto daw po niyang ipa-cremate." With a blink of an eye, you can expect that what you just said will be thrown at the backburner because being only the gay lover of your gay husband, you are not the legal spouse. Sounds like, Mano Po, right? Yes'm.

It's not a stretch of thought to consider that two men living under one roof beneath the banner of eternal love is still common law union. Common law unions are those only consented between two people without the benefit of any law. Short to say, they just shacked up; cannot avail of tax breaks, the surviving spouse do not have the strong right to enforce what the deceased spouse said in articulo mortis (at the point of death), and other benefits accorded to man and woman who tied the knot with the sanctity of law (i.e. civil union). Nil. Nada. Zilch. Because they're only common law and the law still looks at their civil statuses as "single" persons.

The few slivers of my wakefulness went out to A and his partner on the context of civil unions. I've had too many what if's that tired my brain and fortunately lulled me to sleep. But the fact remains that sometimes, even if no matter how proud we are to put into Twitter trending #LoveWins, still Love is short when the might of Law is flexed.

For common law unions (and here is where same-sex unions are right now because we don't have same-sex marriage or civil unions yet) even if, say, I can attest to the truth that my hubby wants to be cremated, I have no right if my words are pitched against the family of my lover, who may want the body of my hubby otherwise like buried in their family lot or wherever.

My point being is, factor in the sentimentality of "til death do us apart" in most marriage vows, same-sex unions cannot fully have this advantage because Philippine laws do not recognize them. And I think that let alone the squabbling over tax, co-ownership, adoption and whathaveyou's, the bitter end of it all is that, isn't it human nature to leave our final words about what to do with our corpse to the person who has this infinite and immeasurable respect and love for us from deathbed and beyond?

Let's not quibble over what it's supposed to be called: same-sex marriage, legal partnerships, civil unions. The lawmakers are off to that debate. But what we need just about now is the protective mantle of law so that at the end, whatever happen to our bodies, that one great love in our lifetime is honored enough to do it for us--respected by the people around us and supported with what the law vests.

P.S. A's partner is now in a better condition. And his story is posted here with proper permission.

P.P.S. Dami kong feels while writing this. Shet.

Saturday, October 1, 2016

drunken ambition

I talked to a poz who was a former law student and somehow all the stress that I endured since the start of law school was validated. As much as misery loves company, blood brothers are thicker than water. Short of it, all this studying is really a CD4-count stressor. It's literally draining

Just about right now, my lymph nodes are swollen again. No illness. No colds. No cough. I just figured while I was taking a bath that my nodes were swollen. I’m way past hypochondriac already. It’s wasn’t yesterday when I just submitted to the heaven that for whatever I have to endure, may the Heaven provide where I am falling short of.

But this semester is just unbelievable pressure. Worth it, but stressful. As much as I’m keeping up with my academic demands, my insomnia has gotten worse from 4 a.m. to a sorry breaking dawn. I kind of pity-partied one afternoon when I had to absent for Civil Procedure because I really cannot get up. And that one time, also during a Monday, when I was awake for 40 hours straight.

I told A that I have high regards for him for not bargaining his health. As for me, I do not know yet. I do not know the source of this illusory confidence that makes me overwhelmingly confident to put my health at the brink of what is also a noble pursuit to finish my legal studies. I just don’t want to feel cheated on an opportunity, I guess.

I am in love with what I am doing. And in the advice of a good professor, I think I am still built for this because I cannot see myself elsewhere anymore. Even my gift for words kowtow with this study. Then again, as I told A (and as I am equally surprised for having said it) I hope this won’t be, in the end, a drunken ambition.

2.13 a.m.
Somewhere in Manila

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

unsent letter #1009

I stand here before the acrid smell of flame as I watch in dismay your red flag hoisted over the horizon. A heart belonging to everyone; hence, to no one. What led me to this cleansing fire was a semblance of bliss. You, who are forever engulfed by the whirlwind of failed attempts, who caressed hearts because of your faulty devices--and mine too. Whitewashed walls insulating the entire forbidding of the city noise, the tolling of a portentous omen. Even my own conscience gone unheard against the faint ticking of these ungodly hours. But we were atheists; without god, just men, and our hands that snaked through each other's valleys which appeared to have been traversed a million times--well, a million it was, but by different snakes.

I would have prayed and finally asked for God's forgiveness before making the leap of faith. I could have. I would have. I was willing. And still to this day I am. But as I stand before this pyre that will forgive my penchant to break hearts, and as well, will beatify the bottles of glue I turned inside out for putting mine back to its peace, still I am never too sure. Trust was something so inspirational it's priceless. But ours came in a box of three. Or at least, a better brand of it.

4:09 p.m. Somewhere on Taft Avenue.

Thursday, August 4, 2016


One plus one is two. Two plus one will not always be three.

I was reading Resident Marine Mammals v. Reyes during a date* because somehow he made me feel secure that even if I would go back to my reading in what is supposed to be a date, it doesn't matter to him. Somehow though, I feel queasy because I never learned how to divide my time between a person who I like who's just sitting across me and my work. Felt like every underline I make, I was moving towards the edge of my seat. I was gaining track in my reading when he said, I'm not sure if this is the right time to tell you this.

From those words alone, that seems to be a bad news. And bad news does not have any good time. I felt a cold fire draining in me. That "arctic perspiration, bugs in your feet, shovels in your guts" kind of self-awareness and said: "Okay, c'mon let's hear it," I said. He fumbled for a while and guess what, I was thinking to myself, "Please, tell me your positive too." But of course that's long shot because I knew since that he was not.

I and my boyfriend are not yet technically off.

"RIGHT." I placed back the cap of the pen, rested it in front of me, and God I was looking at him and at the same time can't see him. I rested for a good second trying to marinade myself through the words he just uttered. And somehow it felt like if I did one more underline on that paper right at that moment of revelation, the end of that stroke will push me off the edge of the universe.

I'm no scene maker. In every problems I face I try to be very diplomatic, compromising and level-headed. Like every obviously nerve-wracked guy but trying to calm and compose himself, the first question is why. Finally, he opened up like a book. He toured me around the edges of his scars. He showed his vulnerable side (or at least he tried to because he said he never like looking like a vulnerable saint to anybody) and somehow I got it. But I saw how we both pined. How our pains showed in our forced smiles. Truly, not all smiles are happy ones.

Of course, for someone like me who's really attracted to this sweet guy, I have to protect my lot. But it's no brainer. I saw the line, and being the would-be lawyer, right-versus-wrong, black-versus-white kind of guy that I am, I have to observe proper formalities. There is no dude in distress in this setup. There's no knight in shining armor. Only men who are trapped in what is a confusing and sad mid- to late-twenties dilemma.

(Don't ask about us right now. I invoke my right to privacy and to be let alone.)

Looking back, what actually makes me chuckle as I write this is that, somehow the order of problems that I can take has be shuffled. When he told me that he had something to tell me, the first thing that crossed my mind is he could have my condition too. But I was wrong. There was a far more unnerving problem that I could only imagine.

I guess that's the beauty of time healing us. For one person, he's much equipped to handle a third wheel dilemma than the guy he likes having HIV. But since it's been years that I have this condition, it's like the order of the "problems-I-can-handle" has been re-stacked. Imagine every kind of problem as a piece of wood in Jenga and HIV is now at the topmost. It's not as crushing as it was before. It's not hard for me to accept someone who has HIV anymore.

But surely, there are more problems to this world. I still can figure in a sideswipe accident as if I'm walking on the blind side of the road.


Yesterday night, I'm reading Ui v. Bonifacio. I know the story from before because it was already used as a reading in one of our classes. I laugh at the humor the world is telling me.

Essentially, what happened is Carlos Ui told Atty. Iris Bonifacio that he is single so they hit it off and had two kids. Later on, here comes now Leslie Ui confronting Atty Bonifacio and revealing to the lawyer that Carlos is a married man. Upon knowing the truth, broken and damned Iris fled to Hawaii and cut off all his relations and connections with Carlos, save it for the necessary support and filiation over her two daughters with Carlos. On the other side of the world, Leslie, a woman as hurt as Iris is, filed a disbarment case against Atty Bonifacio for immorality.

The Supreme Court ruled that Iris needed more compassion than condemnation. Reminds me of Haruki Murakami's line in Kafka on the Shore: "In travel, companion. In life, compassion."

Now tell me: should I head now for Hawaii and clear my head? Haha!

*Date /n/ : I am all about semantics. I don't call the first meet-up as "date." It's only a meet-up. So since I used the word "date" it's not the first time we went out. The connection is somehow there. We're just trying to figure things out.

Saturday, July 30, 2016

unsent letter #0913

Dear You,

I'm not sure how many times someone wrote you a letter on a random blog. And I hope it is as frequent enough so you can tame whatever thunder it is in my chest right now. I hope it is as frequent enough because I do not know how to handle myself right now the moment the sunlight seeped through my window.

There's a different kind of pain in my left wrist. When I would rotate it, it gives off a certain kind of mild discomfort. And a certain kind of addiction. An addicting pain, if I must say, that if I forget its feeling, I'd rotate my wrist again and welcome the sedating anguish it brings. Sometimes, I would want to feel a controlled level of pain to know that I'm alive.

At this hour yesterday, all my senses are heightened. Notwithstanding the film before us, I was searching for you through the dark. But I wasn't looking at you. If I must say in the creepiest way you can think about me, I was figuring you out through the blindness. I was listening if you were breathing. I was catching the air around you, searching for your scent that mixes with popcorn in the air. (You see, I have always believed that the sense of smell brings the most nostalgic memories of all the senses.) And I was at the edge of my existence whenever you'd shuffle your feet, as if two more layers of myself need to restrain me. I don't know why. Or maybe I do? Ask my wrist.

You see, it took me months to be there before you. For the longest time I taught myself to make amends with the man who I really am, the man I am afraid of. The same man who held hostage my heart and the only bargain that I have to do to get it back is to promise him that I will take care of myself, of my heart, this time. That I will keep it behind high walls and just allow it to spend a quiet time on its own.

But yesterday afternoon, my walls were breached. Every piece of brick is giving away. The fault line that is my chest starts to move: as you breath, as you chuckle, as you shuffle your feet, as your scent descends, as I see some of your wounds throughout the afternoon. You see, it is hard to leave a man in peace when the war is something in him. And I cannot demand any apology from you. I brought it upon myself. Or maybe, I wasn't too strong for myself. I could have pacified myself for the stir you bring in me but I cannot blame you for starting the silent wars in me over something as natural as the way you exhale. It is no one's but my fault. I wasn't too strong for you.

So allow me to pine in the most gentleman of way. To begin myself with a prayer each morning, asking God to shut down my inner eyes. Because my memory searches for you in the orbit of your absence. The way you smiled. The way you looked far off as if gazing at a lingering thought that appears 50 feet away from you. The way your face caught the yellow somber light of the cafe. Or how honest you are as you tell me about the wounds of your heart.

I could only hold back myself for far too long. I could only keep my pretensions at bay. When you asked, "Ihahatid mo ko?" God knows that I would want to even there right before your doorstep, even if it takes me past midnight. But my angel was alarmed that I could be heading off to a ravine that I cannot climb out of. So I'd rather said I'll just walk straight ahead and find my way back home. You should have seen how a legion of God's army saved me from a portentous crash. So I went on to choose what's right over what's happy. I always do. And you know what? It sucks most time.

You do not owe me an apology. I owe myself one. I owe myself for being too overconfident enough about my feelings, about my gilded lies, about my cocky idea of self-preservation but allowing myself to be a bait for the trap. For an ISTJ, I was overwhelmed by you and so my Thinking flew right off the window only to find myself drowning with so much emotions in my chest I don't even know how to stay afloat.

A while ago, as I lay in bed, drenched in a late morning thought,  I asked myself, why does it rain? And for some goddam reason, I thought, maybe because the sky has taken so much water and magnificence out of the sea, that all it wants is to embrace the vast blue, but his reach couldn't hug him; and for that failure, he weeps; it rains.

The sky is dark. Probably it will rain again. Maybe the sky just wanted to be thankful for seeing so much beauty from the sea, it doesn't know how to pay back because it is afraid of himself. It made a pact with the universe not to dip itself too close to the sea lest the cosmos would turn topsy turvy. So he allows it to rain. To remind himself of his beautiful hurt. Like the pain in my wrist whenever I'd rotate it: a pain that resembles my defeat whenever I'd remember how you smile, how you smelled like, how everything in you was too much for myself.

So you see, should we meet again, and see me rotating my wrist, humor me. Do not ask. Do not point it out. Act as if you saw nothing. I just want to make sure that I'm alive, that I know how pain feels like and how remembering you when you're gone, when some Friday night is over once again, should be as natural as the rain pouring.