I used to write pretty well. I could craft stories and write ‘em down as if I’m eating a bag of chips. It was easy for me. Surprisingly I think this stems from my love of film, television, music, and Wikipedia, as opposed to books or novels. I was never a big reader, I mean, I’m not an idiot, I can read. I just always chose a movie, or watching a gig, as opposed to staying in and reading a good book.
Crime does pay. Never has this statement been more true than in the Philippines. In the Philippines, if you do the crime… You will do the time. You will end up in jail. And, depending on the severity of said crime, you could very well rot in jail (because we outlawed the death penalty a few years ago).
This statement, of course, like most, if not ALL countries, only apply to the ones who 1) Cannot afford good lawyers, 2) Cannot afford decent bribes, and 3) Cannot afford payment for 5-star accommodations inside the country’s correctional facilities if that person is indeed found guilty of whatever crime he/she has done. Of course, there’s still that notion of “Are they really guilty? Or did we just send an innocent person in jail?” But that’s a different story already.
Most Filipinos my age would find living on their own daunting, pointless, and sometimes even scary. I could not agree more. Living alone is all those things, and more. Traditionally speaking, we are not designed to live alone. Remember that shit about a man not being able to live like an island? That shit is true: In every fucking way possible.