Isn't me

Getting over a nightmare is quite difficult... until now. A few months back, I was working on this story, actually stumbled upon Lalaine and tried to work beyond my employment means to actually help... before I was kicked out simply for reporting that tuberculosis medicines weren't delivered to where they should be ... to about 130 sponsored children and their families who were infected with the disease in one of the international NGO agency's centers. Two days after my immediate local boss was notified about my report which I handed her 3 months earlier and discussed with her 4 months earlier, she dismissed me from my job. Like I need to be employed.

Punks don't, really. So does gypsies. But wanting to make a difference made me leap to a world I previously was just a spectator ... civil organization ... only to find out there is not much civil difference between the local NGO and a snakepit of a government office. Same slimes, same reptiles.

Before I finally decided to make the report, I was sleepless (to go up the NGO corporate ladder or remain sleepless for hell knows how long). If only I could bear to know something's wrong and just shut the fuck up. If only I could shut this mouth and numb this mind... I could have been filthy rich even in my yuppy days (I once told my dad). Nyehehe. I wonder if I could sleep even if I was filthy rich... I'd probably need loads of downers nightly. But it must be a treat to be filthy rich and would not need downers at all! lol!

I just can't. And so, Deron named me "our agency staff in Quezon City, Philippines." No Deron, I am no longer your staff. Let's get over it (I wish that, too!)