That Monday morning, at 7:00 AM, as I stood in line outside Precinct 0047A waiting for my turn to vote, the warmth of the early morning sun bathed me with a soft golden ray of hope, a promise of rosier days ahead.
I remember thinking this was like being in the middle of a beautiful song that I didn’t want to end. Can’t we loop this? Hit “pause,” let it sink in, rewind the tape and play it again from the beginning? And keep stopping it short of the end, so it never ends.
It was an eerie feeling. I know I didn’t want BBM to win. I voted for Leni. But if Leni doesn’t win, I lose THIS feeling too—the feeling I just described—so it left me wondering, did I really want ANYBODY to win?
Of course I did.
I was very animated right from Day 1 of the election period, but did I really contemplate its ending somewhere in time? Or was the journey so epic and worthy in itself, the destination would be more anti-climax than denouement?
I thank Leni from the bottom of my heart because for that brief period she made me try again. Hope again. Believe again. Dream again.
Unfortunately, the only way to make any dream come true is to wake up. To open your eyes, exit the surreal world of possibility and step back into the tangible reality whose harshness you abhor. As Forrest Gump said, “Sometimes in life, there just aren’t enough rocks.”
Reality greeted me when I woke up the next morning and realized that BBM is now “His Excellency President Ferdinand Marcos, Jr.”
I can just imagine the euphoria and the rambunctious celebration in the camps of BBM supporters all across the country.
Am I jealous? Absolutely.
Even defeat will not suddenly make me a liar. I would still uphold all truth—including the truth of this aching envy that I feel. Telling the truth—Leni reinforced that virtue in me without even being so “preachy” about it.
I don’t like losing. Who does? I especially don’t like losing when I have tied to the triumph that eluded me my highest hopes and boldest aspirations.
On the other hand, being firmly in the losing camp drapes you with a strange sensation of horrible relief.
Victory has many fathers, but defeat is an orphan. The cold and empty halls of an orphanage are sometimes just the tranquility your heart longs for in its agony. Quietude is a balm that heals, as do the words “it’s okay to NOT be okay.”
I accept that BBM won. There are bumps and bruises on everyone from a lot of jostling and all manners of foul. I got elbowed as much as I elbowed. The sluggish and cross-eyed referees always never blew the whistle at the right times. But like any rough-and-tumble NBA game, in the end the final score is all that matters.
I kept vigil through the night, waiting to see if Leni would concede. If she did, I would totally support her in THAT, too. At this point, at least, I concede that she knows more than I do to inform any decision that she wants to make.
There will always be a lot of Monday morning quarterbacking after the Sunday football game (okay, in this case, Tuesday morning). I’ve already read a lot of scholarly posts about statistical anomalies and improbabilities. Even I have a few dumbfounding speculations. But I can offer absolutely no proof. At least, nothing that can stand in a court of law. In any case, INTERPRETATIVE statistical improbability is not a ground for an election protest.
From where I sit, Leni lost the election because she got less votes than Bongbong Marcos. That was also how Bongbong lost to her in 2016. That is how elections work. We determine the winner by counting votes in an ever-improving manner. It’s still not perfect, we’re making incremental and fitful progress, but progress nonetheless.
I don’t like Bongbong Marcos one bit. But he is now the president of my country, and I love my country.
The usual obligatory question is “Would you support the new president?”
My answer is, how could I? I am conflicted. I did not vote for him because I did not like him for a president. His winning did not change that. I STILL don’t like him for a president.
“Does that mean you will OPPOSE the new president?”
My answer is exactly the same. How could I? I am conflicted. If his administration fails, MY country—the country that I love more than him—also fails. His winning did not change that. And I boldly rebuke any Filipino today of any political color—yellow, blue, red, pink or polka dots—who would say that just because BBM won, they now hate the Philippines.*
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