I don’t believe that there are purely good people in this world. Everyone likes to believe that they are a good person. It is a comforting thought for people like us, one that shields us from the weight of our own actions. I believe that good does not exist in isolation. It only takes shape in contrast to something else much darker—something most people, even me, tend to push under the rug. Pleasure is only meaningful because pain exists, and kindness is only recognized because cruelty does too. Yet instead of acknowledging this balance, people often cling to the idea that they are purely good, refusing to confront the parts of themselves that say otherwise.

People will do whatever they can to preserve their image, even our politicians do so. Even if it means sacrificing others in the process. I had watched countless times how people shift blame like it is a reflex, watched them bend stories so that they are not portrayed as villains, and many more that I know you encounter in your daily lives. When they are faced with the choice between accountability and self-preservation, many choose the latter. Often, people have tendencies to gather like-minded people who will stand by our version of the story. In doing so, we created a space where wrongdoings are not only tolerated but are often fed with delusions.

And I’d be lying if I said I’ve never been tempted to do the same. Because having someone with you is more comforting than drowning in your own problems, where self-preservation takes course, so that I can survive.

I am pretty sure we have all heard countless apologies before. We make mistakes, we say sorry, and we move forward–only for us to repeat the same mistake again and again. It makes me wonder if their apologies are always sincere, or maybe just an act so that they can ease guilt before their next mistake occurs. Just for them to cover it up again with another empty apology. And somewhere along the way, I have to ask myself–have I ever done the same thing just to move on? Saying these words on a routine basis, until it is stripped and devoid of meaning?

Countless times, people who surround me often try to prove that they are good, but the more they do, the more their hidden side begins to grow. There is a shadow in each one of us that forms when one refuses to acknowledge their flaws. Where the subtle satisfaction we feel when someone we dislike fails, or the judgment we say disguised as honesty. It lingers beneath forced kindness and performative morality. And the harder we people try to suppress it, the more it finds subtle ways to resurface in acts like I had said before, such us in our judgment, honesty, in performative ways we try to mask ourselves.

And maybe that’s why creating bonds with hatred is so easy. Because you don’t have to build trust, you just have to share a target to hate.

Hatred has a way of creating connections. When there is someone we dislike, bonds become stronger. Shared negativity becomes the very glue that holds these kinds of people together. Where conversations revolve around a common target, and in that shared focus, individuals with delusions feel a sense of belonging. But these connections are fragile, built not on trust, but on the existence of someone else to tear apart. Once the target is gone, the silence creeps in—and suddenly, nothing is holding you together except the need to find someone new to tear apart.

Strangely, I believe that human beings are complex in a way, perhaps that is what makes them so unsettling. We always try to find ways to justify our actions, no matter how harmful it really is to others. What is clearly wrong to one can be rationalized by another. “Deserve niya naman yan”, “Hoy Joke lang yon”, “Siya naman nag simula eh!”. The excuse we create piles up, creating a barrier between us taking action and us taking accountability.

And this is the truth I can’t solely ignore, I know I am capable of being cruel. And so are YOU

And then those who become targets. Reduced to a source of entertainment, their pain turned into something we laugh at or talk about. It says more about the people doing the targeting than it does about those who are being targeted. Because at some point, it stops being about the person they are attacking—and starts revealing who they truly are.

I’m done pretending that calling myself “good” means anything. Because it doesn’t.

What matters is what I choose when it’s inconvenient. When it costs me something. When no one is there to validate me or defend me. That’s where it shows—who I really am, not who I claim to be.

In the end, connections bound by hate are not as strong as they seem. They rely on constant negativity to survive, always needing someone new to focus on. Without that, they fall apart. What remains is our choice: shall we continue hiding behind others, or for us to face ourselves honestly? Because this is not about who claims to be a good, but is about choosing, again and again, and not to become the very thing we all try to deny.

Let us all rethink about our values and virtues, and ask ourselves…

If you needed a crowd to feel right, would you still think you’re right without them?

If your kindness only exists when it’s seen, does it still count?

And if the only thing stopping you from being cruel is convenience…what does that make you when it’s gone?

I believe that the most dangerous kind of people in the room are never the ones who know that they’re wrong.

But are the ones who are absolutely convinced they aren’t.

The Frontman