ari na naman ang magamo nga sistema sa paghatag ayuda para sa mga affected sang bagyo. super annoying. wala gid pagbag-o.
every time there’s a calamity, it feels like we go through the same cycle all over again. confusion, frustration, and disappointment. you’d think by now the system would have improved, that the people in charge would have learned from the last disaster. but no. the same chaos repeats itself. and the people who need help the most are always the ones who suffer.
i used to work part-time in the government before. i joined out of curiosity. i wanted to understand how things really work, how decisions are made, how people serve the community. i was young and hopeful back then, thinking maybe i could do something good, maybe i could somehow make a small difference.
but the truth i saw behind the scenes was disheartening. the system is broken. everything feels disorganized, and no one seems to know what’s really going on. and the people assigned to do the work? most of them are trying their best, but they simply don’t have enough knowledge or capability to handle such important tasks. it’s not entirely their fault. they were just told to do it. but that’s where the deeper problem lies: the people in position, the ones who are supposed to lead and make sure everything runs smoothly, are also not knowledgeable or capable enough to lead. it’s like an endless cycle of inefficiency and misplaced responsibility.
sometimes it feels like no one really cares about doing things right. they just care about doing them the way they’ve always been done. and when you’re young and idealistic, that kind of environment can crush you. i remember wanting to speak up before, to suggest better ways of handling things, but i didn’t. i was scared. it felt like a losing battle, like standing up against a hundred people who’ve already accepted that this is just “how it is.”
and that’s what frustrates me the most. this collective acceptance of a broken system. people joke about it, shrug it off, or even defend it. “amo na gid na ya,” they’d say. as if the lack of order and fairness has become a part of who we are.
it’s disheartening to watch, especially during times like this, when people are already struggling after a storm. when they’re tired, hungry, and desperate for help that should’ve been there days ago. it shouldn’t be this hard to care for our own people.
what makes it even more painful is seeing how floods and disasters are often worsened by negligence and corruption. drainage systems left unmaintained, flood control projects half-finished or poorly executed, budgets spent without accountability.all of it leaves communities exposed, and lives at risk. it’s not just nature’s fury we’re facing; it’s a system that fails to protect us when we need it most.
and when aid finally arrives, it’s often handled so poorly that it barely reaches those who truly need it. favoritism, mismanaged funds, and bureaucratic delays mean that people have to wait, navigate chaos, or beg just to survive. it’s frustrating, heartbreaking, and maddening all at once.
sometimes i wish i could do more. i wish i had the power to fix things, or at least the courage to speak up louder. but right now, i just feel small. helpless. angry, even. because no matter how much you want to help, the system makes you feel like you can’t, like your voice doesn’t matter, like your efforts won’t change anything.
still, deep down, i hold on to a little hope that someday, someone brave enough will break this cycle. that we’ll finally have leaders who are not just in position, but truly capable of leading. people who listen, who plan, who care. because our communities deserve that. our people deserve that.
until then, i guess i’ll keep hoping (and writing) about it. because even if my voice feels small, it’s still something. and maybe, that’s a start.
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