Dear Mrs. President,
I may not know much about politics, but I do know a thing or two about honesty. I was six when I read the story of the boy who cried wolf. Hasn’t anyone read you that story, Mrs. President? And hasn’t anyone told you that when you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth?
I once had high hopes for you. I remember being twelve, on a lunch date with my family, in a local restaurant people applauded the resignation of President Joseph Estrada. But beyond that, I knew they were really applauding you. I felt the unfeigned cheers from everyone’s mouth, the goosebumps on every person’s body. You see, we saw you as our hope..a spot of green on a wilted leaf.
You were born from nobility. You have your father’s ambition and your mother’s fervor. But apparently, greatness is not something you can inherit. It’s actually something you have to make yourself up for.
We believed every promise you made like we never heard a single lie in our life. We placed you our trust like we have never been betrayed by a president before. For once, we thought everything’s going to change. But it didn’t.
You had the brilliance, the power, and the passion of a leader. But you know what weapon you fell short on? Honesty. You have taken this virtue for granted that you forgot it’s the only thing that’s been keeping your people from falling apart.
With honesty comes trust..and once the people realized you weren’t a trustworthy individual, they have struggled trusting you again even in times when you were probably telling them the complete truth.
I felt sorry for all the Filipinos you have gravely disappointed. But watching the news, I realized the only person I feel sorry for is you. We Filipinos can move on from this tragedy, just as we had triumphed over our previous battles. But you, you will carry this guilt for a lifetime. And who knows maybe even after death when you will realize why you couldn’t enter the gates of heaven.
You are now reaping the fruits you have sown. Unfortunately for you, it taste bitter.
Sincerely yours,
A Commoner.
