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December 07, 2007 - 2:40 And what a day it was. What spooked me so, and what I couldn't shake later, was that I had formed strong ideas about jumping off of a bridge. A sort of self-imposed witch trial: I thought if I die, fine. But- if I'm not meant to die, obviously, I will be able to swim to the other side. I felt convinced this was reasonable. A good answer to an important question. But even as I was certain this rite was all but necessary, a scared, sensible haunt of me looked for an escape route...If my plan turned sour mid-air, I saw a wooden pallet in the middle of the river. If I jumped towards it, I wouldn't have to swim to the other side, OR die. An alternate plan full of holes, yes, but a smatter of sanity worth mentioning. I never got closer than accessing at the railing and a foot dangle though, and I'm not sure why. I suspect it was because none of the bridges "felt right", which was a defined prerequisite to the dive. Or maybe I simply became distracted.
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