He used to sell his own blood so I could stay in school. Yet years later, when he came to me weak and desperate for help, now that I was earning ₱100,000 a month, I almost turned him away.
When I got accepted into college, I had nothing but an admissions letter and a fragile dream of escaping poverty. Our life had always been hard—so hard that whenever we had a small piece of meat on the table, the whole neighborhood knew we were celebrating something. My mother died when I was just ten,…
