Ngayon, nakabalik na ako sa lungsod at nakakabalita na sa mga nakilala ko at nakasama ko sa lungsod, at pakikibakang parlyamentaryo, hindi ko maiwasan mapansin ang agwat namin. Yung mga naging instruktor ko sa BKP* ay mga instruktor na ngayon sa iba’t ibang kulehiyo sa UP. May mga parangal, may mga posisyon, may mga katungkulan. Yung mga nakasama ko sa mga Cultural Night upang pataasin ang kapasyahang tumungo sa kanayunan ay nagpopost ng stories na nasa gym na may mamahali

For years, I believed that genuine change in the Philippines could only come through armed revolution. Like many idealistic young people, I was drawn to the promise of a nation free from injustice, inequality, and corruption. I sincerely believed that taking up arms was not merely an option; it was the only path. I was wrong.

One line from Atom Araullo's graduation speech at UP Baguio this week hit me harder than I expected. "You don't have to kill your dreams in the name of service. Just make sure your dreams don't require you to kill your conscience."

But his is not only a story about gender. His is also a story about poverty, recruitment, ideology, fear, and the long road home.

For former rebels who spent years organizing in labor and peasant communities, the issue is not as simple as choosing between government praise and leftist rejection.