Can I call you Amolo? I know, it seems rather personal, considering we haven’t actually spoken before, but after all these years I feel like I know you. For a long time I thought you and I were kindred spirits, that is until you left me, abandoned by the side of the road, as you rode off into the sunset, never looking back. That’s right, you took the love I had given you and threw it away, and all for a new office, and a bigger car with a smaller flag. Amolo, was the flag (cum air freshener) in my decrepit tuktuk not enough for you? Was my undying devotion, even in the face of my parent’s resistance, not reason enough for you to hold on to me?
Why, Amolo, did you desert me in my time of need? I supported you through the bad times, only for you to leave me when you got a better offer, an offer that would benefit you, and not me. Amolo, what did he have that I didn’t, that man in the big white house with the many gates, and a helipad he doesn’t use?
Oh Amolo, you broke my heart in two when you abandoned our dream; when you sank into the cushy chair he gave you and promptly forgot what it is you, we, really wanted; when you stopped listening to the people who believed in you and your egalitarian dream, and started listening to the idiots and sycophants you surrounded yourself with, thieving, foolish sycophants obsessed with the trappings of power, like stolen land, and 500k suits, and book deals; when your half of the loaf was no longer enough to sate your greed, and you began to eat my crumbs; when your vanity overcame your good sense, and you began buying Polycolor by the truckload, no doubt at the (un)wise advice of your (alleged) girlfriend, the one with the even dodgier hair. Oh Amolo, why did you have to break my heart?
But do not mourn for me, my heart has healed, Amolo, and I am stronger now. I will go on without you, as you did without me.
I am no longer yours (at least until we go to the run-off, then perhaps I will be forced to reconsider),