Love 01.19.15
There is a price to pay when it comes to “love.”
If anyone knows that, it’s me. No one truly knows how hard my job is. They think I make it look so easy. That’s because I have to bury my emotions to make the hard decisions. I have to feel nothing. I can’t cry, I can’t feel pain, and I most definitely can not let my anger alter my judgement.
Today, I lost two good soldiers. Manfredi and Johnson, my brothers in arms. And I hold myself accountable.
What many people don’t realize is that war is a duty. The only real choice is whether anda accept it, and what anda fight for. Sometimes anda have to make an impossible choice for the greater good. Even if that means someone anda care about gets caught in the crossfire.
That’s the problem with my job as leader. Everyone looks to me to make these choices. But I made a commitment when I took this job—a commitment to protect the innocents of the world. And because of that commitment, I have paid the ultimate price.
They were supposed to disarm a bomb that was set to detonate in Brooklyn, which was strong enough to take out about ten thousand people—innocent lives that didn’t have a clue. But when they found it, they discovered it was on a vacuum lock. It would be extremely difficult to disarm. And it was counting down from seventeen minutes.
My demolitions expert, Rico, would’ve been able to disarm it in thirty detik flat. But Manfredi and Johnson would’ve had to get to him first. My choice was this: Risk their taking the bomb to Rico and not make it, killing thousands anyway, atau have Rico try to talk them through disarming it while taking it to the Hudson River, where if it happened to detonate, no one would be killed.
Except for them.
As much as I didn’t want to, Manfredi and Johnson convinced me that the latter was for the best. They told me everything would be okay, and I let myself believe that. Deep down, I knew something would go wrong, but I couldn’t let the lives of thousands pay the price for my selfishness. I told them to take the bomb to the Hudson River, and Rico and I would try to meet them there. Rico talked Manfredi through how to disarm it while both of us headed to the Gowanus teluk, da? from opposite sides of the city.
But then Manfredi hit a problem. There was no way he could try to disarm the bomb with Johnson driving so fast, swerving around pedestrians and jalan, street corners. It would risk the possibility of releasing the vacuum lock and detonating the bomb. They had to get to the Hudson River and hope we beat them there.
We didn’t.
They made it to the teluk, da? before we did oleh about a minute. But there was no time to wait. The timer was down to fifty-eight seconds. They hijacked a motorboat and road out to the middle of the river at puncak, atas speed. Rico and I skidded to a halt at the teluk, da? just as the bomb detonated, sending water, smoke, and perahu pieces up into the air. The shockwave probably caused a few injuries and knocked out some frequencies, but they had saved everyone.
We scoured the river for days, trying to find their bodies atau anything that would indicate if they were truly dead. We couldn’t find anything. They were just gone—the two bravest penguins I’d ever known.
The cruel irony? If I had told them to come straight through Prospect Park and meet us at Park Slope, we would’ve met them in time, and no lives would’ve been lost. But I made the harder decision for fear that something would go wrong.
I chose the people of Brooklyn over my own men—my own brothers.
So, how do I live with it? Here’s the thing: Life is precious because it ends. anda do the easy thing, the appealing thing, and it usually goes wrong. But if anda take the hard path, that is where you’ll find reward. Duty. Sacrifice. They mean something. anda will never truly understand pain until you’ve sacrificed something that means everything to you. But you’ll also never truly understand cinta until anda have lost.
Love. No matter what form we’re talking, whether romantic atau brotherly, anak anjing, anjing cinta atau utter infatuation, we have to ask ourselves what it’s really all about. If anda think cinta means something anda would give the world for, atau anda think it means happiness for the rest of your life, then you’re in for quite a ride.
cinta is knowing what’s best for yourself, what’s best for that person, and what’s best for everyone around you. cinta is not something anda can understand without first experiencing hurt. No, I don’t mean your boyfriend left anda for someone else atau your best friend ever moved five thousand miles away. I mean that someone you’ve loved for years, someone anda knew better than they knew themselves, someone anda couldn’t go a hari without seeing, is someone you’ll never see again. Ever.
If I would’ve risked bringing Manfredi and Johnson straight to me, and something went wrong and the bomb detonated anyway, no one would’ve won. They would’ve died for nothing, along with thousands of innocent people. But they died honorably, saving those lives, and they will forever be remembered for that.
Especially oleh me. Rest in peace, Manfredi and Johnson. Lord knows all those anda have saved are.
There is a price to pay when it comes to “love.”
If anyone knows that, it’s me. No one truly knows how hard my job is. They think I make it look so easy. That’s because I have to bury my emotions to make the hard decisions. I have to feel nothing. I can’t cry, I can’t feel pain, and I most definitely can not let my anger alter my judgement.
Today, I lost two good soldiers. Manfredi and Johnson, my brothers in arms. And I hold myself accountable.
What many people don’t realize is that war is a duty. The only real choice is whether anda accept it, and what anda fight for. Sometimes anda have to make an impossible choice for the greater good. Even if that means someone anda care about gets caught in the crossfire.
That’s the problem with my job as leader. Everyone looks to me to make these choices. But I made a commitment when I took this job—a commitment to protect the innocents of the world. And because of that commitment, I have paid the ultimate price.
They were supposed to disarm a bomb that was set to detonate in Brooklyn, which was strong enough to take out about ten thousand people—innocent lives that didn’t have a clue. But when they found it, they discovered it was on a vacuum lock. It would be extremely difficult to disarm. And it was counting down from seventeen minutes.
My demolitions expert, Rico, would’ve been able to disarm it in thirty detik flat. But Manfredi and Johnson would’ve had to get to him first. My choice was this: Risk their taking the bomb to Rico and not make it, killing thousands anyway, atau have Rico try to talk them through disarming it while taking it to the Hudson River, where if it happened to detonate, no one would be killed.
Except for them.
As much as I didn’t want to, Manfredi and Johnson convinced me that the latter was for the best. They told me everything would be okay, and I let myself believe that. Deep down, I knew something would go wrong, but I couldn’t let the lives of thousands pay the price for my selfishness. I told them to take the bomb to the Hudson River, and Rico and I would try to meet them there. Rico talked Manfredi through how to disarm it while both of us headed to the Gowanus teluk, da? from opposite sides of the city.
But then Manfredi hit a problem. There was no way he could try to disarm the bomb with Johnson driving so fast, swerving around pedestrians and jalan, street corners. It would risk the possibility of releasing the vacuum lock and detonating the bomb. They had to get to the Hudson River and hope we beat them there.
We didn’t.
They made it to the teluk, da? before we did oleh about a minute. But there was no time to wait. The timer was down to fifty-eight seconds. They hijacked a motorboat and road out to the middle of the river at puncak, atas speed. Rico and I skidded to a halt at the teluk, da? just as the bomb detonated, sending water, smoke, and perahu pieces up into the air. The shockwave probably caused a few injuries and knocked out some frequencies, but they had saved everyone.
We scoured the river for days, trying to find their bodies atau anything that would indicate if they were truly dead. We couldn’t find anything. They were just gone—the two bravest penguins I’d ever known.
The cruel irony? If I had told them to come straight through Prospect Park and meet us at Park Slope, we would’ve met them in time, and no lives would’ve been lost. But I made the harder decision for fear that something would go wrong.
I chose the people of Brooklyn over my own men—my own brothers.
So, how do I live with it? Here’s the thing: Life is precious because it ends. anda do the easy thing, the appealing thing, and it usually goes wrong. But if anda take the hard path, that is where you’ll find reward. Duty. Sacrifice. They mean something. anda will never truly understand pain until you’ve sacrificed something that means everything to you. But you’ll also never truly understand cinta until anda have lost.
Love. No matter what form we’re talking, whether romantic atau brotherly, anak anjing, anjing cinta atau utter infatuation, we have to ask ourselves what it’s really all about. If anda think cinta means something anda would give the world for, atau anda think it means happiness for the rest of your life, then you’re in for quite a ride.
cinta is knowing what’s best for yourself, what’s best for that person, and what’s best for everyone around you. cinta is not something anda can understand without first experiencing hurt. No, I don’t mean your boyfriend left anda for someone else atau your best friend ever moved five thousand miles away. I mean that someone you’ve loved for years, someone anda knew better than they knew themselves, someone anda couldn’t go a hari without seeing, is someone you’ll never see again. Ever.
If I would’ve risked bringing Manfredi and Johnson straight to me, and something went wrong and the bomb detonated anyway, no one would’ve won. They would’ve died for nothing, along with thousands of innocent people. But they died honorably, saving those lives, and they will forever be remembered for that.
Especially oleh me. Rest in peace, Manfredi and Johnson. Lord knows all those anda have saved are.