Woke up to an sms from my friend Abi: "may natagpuang dead body sa palma hall dis a.m.!" Two years ago, this wouldn't have bothered me. I read, ate and drink to crime stories, and it didn't make me squimish. The mere mention of a massacre makes you happy in a twisted kind of way (Yey! We have a new story!) But now it makes me cringe. That's when you realize you've had enough and ship out, or maybe we've been subconsciously wishing a slow death to this crime glam on television.