𝐀 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐲

A mirror doesn’t plead nor preach; it reflects. You decide what to do with the reflection.

Well-meaning friends in the Philippines have contacted me, offering help or asking if I’ve already sought it. I answered "No" to both. I told them I don't need any help. If the mighty wants to extract me from where I am now, they have to go through a proper process. Follow it, succeed, and I’ll go. One of them, with all her good intentions, warned, “But that’s exactly what they want—get you to the Philippines and liquidate you.” She’s not wrong. With their gold, guns, and goons, it’s more than likely. I replied: "If death scares you, this struggle is not for you, and instead of being a backbone for others, you become a liability."

We live on borrowed time, every breath a debt to eternity. When it calls due, you don’t plead—you pay. No tears. Then comes this, "But we need you!" Wrong! That’s fear cloaked as purpose. What you need is to slap yourself awake, steel your spine, and rip apart the KLEPTOCRACY—those sanctimonious elites and their grovelling cheerleaders having a tactical alliance now, hiding filth behind fig leaves of piety.

This isn’t about me. It’s about you. It’s about the next generation who’ll inherit what we leave behind. If you don’t rip out this rot—the Philippines they’ll inherit will be a sewer of corruption and drugs, deeper and darker than we had it. I’m not your saviour—I’m just a mirror. A mirror doesn’t plead nor preach; it reflects. You decide what to do with the reflection. If the mighty breaks this glass, they don’t silence it. A mirror that breaks multiply—each shard a new reflection, sharper, unyielding.

So wake up! Or let the next generation pay the price. This isn’t a courtroom game—it’s history’s forge. You’ll hammer out how it’s carved.

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