You’ve known her since birth. She’s been there with you in your birth certificate. She helped you stumble your way past grade school math. She fell in love with your ex boyfriend and is now working at your office cubicle. You’ve blamed her for her past mistakes but she also stood up to you and blamed others, on many an occasion. She’s an inseparable part of you, and she will always take you where you need to go, using your own two feet. The rally cries have said it. The spray-painted ads have spelled it out. Millions of blogsters have used it in their hashtags. “I want a president who will never break up me. I want a president who likes the things I like. I want a president like me.”
You, yes, you, can uplift this country: All we need is your word and your votes are ours. Promise, against all odds, that you would put food on your plate, even if just a morsel; Obesity is killing thousands of children all over the world. Promise that you would haggle for tuition fees, which curriculum is the freshest, which one has been bitten by the least worms. Promise that anywhere you go, especially within worthwhile cities like half of Makati and half of Taguig, you will find a home, be it on the foot-wide sidewalks graciously provided so as to await future improvement by hired foreign city planners—or the banks of murky rivers within whose waters live ancient creatures beyond our understanding, which proves that if you can live there, you can live virtually anywhere—or on the islands of brick and dirt that divide the flow of traffic, islands symbolic of our diversity as a nation, roads and oceans swarming with vehicles made in neighboring countries. And promise me, for all that is good and mighty, that you will always compromise despite your dignity, for uplifting a nation’s morale is decidedly better at keeping the peace than pinpointing every single reason why this relationship does NOT work, and that we’re all living on sinking boats, like the actual islands that lay themselves ever so slowly into the ocean under the weight of all these SM malls, like the untended street islands that manage to sustain plant life due to the occasional waist-high flood, like the islands of our hearts, which know the flow of blood better than the skins on our wrists.
Surveys conducted in the better halves of Makati and Taguig have spoken: “I am the best president of myself, and I promise to save myself first, and everything will follow.”