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Vice President Sara Duterte sat alone in her office. The room, once full with the energy of strategic meetings and collaborative plans, now felt eerily quiet. The only sound was the occasional rustle of paper as she flipped through old documents and memos, remnants of a partnership that had once been her guiding light.
I remember when Bongbong and I first came together in this journey of politics. How he makes 'ligaw' to be his Vice President. Our team-up had felt like destiny. We shared a vision for the country—a future of progress, stability, and unity. I had admired Bongbong's drive and ambition, and together, we made a good team. We were in sync, like two dancers moving effortlessly to the same beat.
But somewhere along the way, things changed. The energy that once bound us began to fray. We had different priorities, different visions of how to move forward. It was like trying to keep pace with someone whose rhythm had shifted. The harder we tried to align our steps, the more out of sync we became.
I remember the early days of our partnership, how we worked late into the night, brainstorming policies and strategies. Those moments were filled with hope and determination. We believed that if we just put in more effort, if we just kept pushing, we could overcome any challenge. But the more we gave, the more it seemed like we were moving in opposite directions.
The realization came slowly but inevitably. I had poured my heart into this role, as his Vice President, believing that if I tried harder, things would get better. But no matter how much I invested, it felt like the gap between us grew wider. The mutual respect and enthusiasm we once shared seemed to dissolve into frustration and distance.
It's strange, really. You think that by giving everything you have, you can fix what's broken. But love and partnership in politics, just like in any other sphere, can't be forced. They need to be mutual. And ours had become a one-sided effort, where I felt like I was dancing alone.
As I look back on the last few months, it's clear that the pivotal moment came when Bongbong offered me the role of Secretary of the Department of Education. It was supposed to be an opportunity to contribute in a new way, to make a difference. But instead, it became the final straw that broke me.
The offer wasn't just for the new position; it came with something else—confidential funds. I should have been more cautious, but I trusted Bongbong and the administration. I thought this trust was well-placed, that I was stepping into a role that aligned with my values and principles. But I now realize that accepting that role was a mistake. The confidential funds were a significant red flag. I should have questioned it, refused it, and walked away. Instead, I allowed myself to be caught up in the moment, believing that my commitment and trust would be respected.
The fallout was swift and harsh. I became the target of widespread criticism and hate. People blamed me for the misuse of the funds, even though I was not the one managing them. No one knew where the funds actually went or how they were used. What's worse, I was left bearing the brunt of the public's anger and suspicion.
What they didn't understand was that I was used as a pawn. My name and position were exploited for their own gain. They wanted me to align with their actions, even when they were illegal and went against my principles. They wanted me to follow their lead, to be complicit in their schemes, even though it clashed with everything I stood for.
He tried to talk to me, I knew it was his way of reaching out, of trying to mend what had been fractured. But I couldn't accept it. Not because of any personal grudge, but because I had to acknowledge the truth. I couldn't be in a position where I was expected to fit into a role that didn't align with my own path and principles.
Leaving the cabinet was not an easy decision. It was a painful acknowledgment that our partnership was no longer working. It's never easy to admit that despite your best efforts, something has run its course. But it's more painful to cling to a role and a relationship that no longer serves either party.
I look back with a mix of sadness and gratitude. The journey we shared brought significant achievements and growth. I cherish the moments when we were in sync, when our shared vision drove us forward. But I also recognize that it's time to move on, to seek a path where my efforts are matched with mutual commitment and respect.
As I pack up my office and prepare to leave this chapter behind, I carry with me the lessons learned. Love and partnership in politics are not about how hard you try or how much you give. They are about mutual respect, shared vision, and genuine alignment.
I hope Bongbong gets the balance he's looking for in his future plans, just like I hope to find a new road that fits my own goals and values. We built something together and had to let go of some things along the way. The journey we took together will always be a part of me.
