I am disillusioned. The Unity Team I fervently supported during the last presidential elections—a team I believed would rise above petty squabbles and serve as a beacon of hope for this divided nation—is now in tatters. From staunch allies promising collective progress, they have devolved into bitter rivals, slinging mud and dismantling each other’s reputations. Their once-solid camaraderie has crumbled, leaving me questioning if unity was ever anything more than a campaign slogan.
It’s disheartening to watch their political infighting unfold like a poorly-written soap opera, each episode more absurd than the last. Instead of working together to address poverty, corruption, and the myriad issues plaguing our nation, they’ve turned politics into a gladiator match, wielding scandals and accusations like swords. What’s worse is that I once cheered for these gladiators, believing they’d fight for me, for us. Now, it feels like they’ve dragged us into the arena to watch the carnage, indifferent to the damage they’ve inflicted on our collective morale.
I had hoped for leaders who would prioritize the welfare of the people over their egos. Instead, what we have are power-hungry actors desperate for the spotlight, their grand promises reduced to soundbites replayed in mocking irony. Their public feuds aren’t just embarrassing; they’re a betrayal of the trust we placed in them. It’s like watching parents squabble over inheritance while their children go hungry. What happened to leadership for the greater good?
Frankly, I’m exhausted. Politics in this country has become an endless circus where clowns run the show and the audience never gets the laugh it deserves. Every election cycle, the same tired scripts are recycled, just with different actors. And like an eternal optimist—or perhaps a fool—I once believed that this time would be different. I cast my vote with hope in my heart, only to find that hope repeatedly trampled underfoot.
If I were younger, perhaps I would have already packed my bags, chasing the dream of greener pastures abroad. There’s something unbearably stifling about staying in a place where the future feels like a never-ending rerun of past mistakes. But I’m older now, tied down by responsibilities and a strange, persistent love for this country that refuses to let me go, no matter how bitter I feel about it. I still dream of change, but that dream feels like a distant mirage, fading with each political scandal.
The worst part of all this is the sense of betrayal. I believed in unity, in the possibility of working together to mend this broken country. I believed in their vision—or at least the vision they painted during campaign rallies, where everything glittered with promises of progress and hope. Now, I’m left wondering if I was duped by a mirage, chasing an illusion that was never real to begin with.
I can’t help but think about the younger generation. What kind of example are we setting for them? They’re watching all this unfold, learning that politics is less about public service and more about personal gain. We’re raising a generation that might grow up too cynical to believe in democracy, too disillusioned to care. It’s a frightening thought, but who can blame them when this is the reality they inherit?
Perhaps it’s time to look beyond personalities and focus on systems that work. Leaders come and go, but institutions, if built well, can outlast them. Maybe the answer lies in strengthening accountability and ensuring that no one is above the law—not even those who promise unity, only to turn on each other. For now, I can only hope, even if hope feels like the most fragile thing I have left.
