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It is up to you.
Every vote counts, every voice matters, and every footstep in the grand march for what’s right is critical. So, I hate when people say that one person can’t make a difference.
My biggest fear as a little kid used to be being forgotten. The fear that I would live an entire life filled with monumental moments and achievements but that it would be worth nothing because it wouldn’t hold its own page in the book of The Greats.
I wanted so badly to be someone that people would look up to and go, “Wow, I want to be like her someday.” I wanted to accomplish a grandeur list of things so important and special that they would name me the person of the year and eventually make a movie about my life, all before I died of course because death is the only thing second to being forgotten.
I figured that I would be the first person on Mars, despite my debilitating fear of space, and the best author on Earth, despite my lack of attention span and my knack for giving up on things rather quickly, and I wanted to be president. Not the first female president, however. Because that was something I was sure was impossible.
I figured by the time I was 35 and eligible to run, there would be no way that we wouldn’t have a female president already. I thought this again in 2016 when I was sure Hillary Clinton would win even though I only had a rudimentary understanding of politics and zero knowledge of the Electoral College, which is why I was absolutely shocked when I discovered that more people voted for her than Trump, and she didn’t win.
I was also naively sure that Kamala Harris would win this election. It’s not something I was consciously thinking about, as, in all honesty, I tried to avoid thinking about it because it terrified me. I spoke out loud that I knew Trump was going to win again, but I never recognized the shred of hope I held in the back of my head until it was shattered, and I realized I had yet again been holding onto a fantasy.
Much of the content I’ve consumed in the past two months has been all too political, from YouTube debates to TikTok “edits” of each candidate and to the never-ending strew of political ads I’ve seen, so it’s safe to say that I’ve been pretty involved for the past couple months and really my entire life (also known as me eating, sleeping, and breathing political information 24/7). Now, I can, of course, recognize that this is somewhat abnormal for my age as someone who can’t vote and, as much of the public believes, can’t make a difference.
It’s important to know that I am an extremely opinionated person, and I care deeply about current events and the widespread issues at hand that I think are critical to address; for example, the Climate Clock stands at just below five years. So, while many people will say it’s not important to stay informed because I can’t do anything about it, I will continue to rebut and argue against this, might I say, stupid point.
I’ve never had a problem with empathy and putting myself in others’ shoes, but I do have a problem with putting myself in the shoes of people who think like this. Because really, try as I might to understand the point they’re making, I just can’t. Because honestly, who cares if I’m not making a difference right now? Even if I can’t vote, if I can’t convince people to care, because as long as I care, which I wholeheartedly do, I’m going to continue to try because trying is essential. As long as I keep writing, and debating, and talking about issues in the world, I am making a difference, even if infinitesimal.
I’ll be able to vote as of 2026, and I can guarantee right now that I will vote in the midterms because, contrary to popular belief of my age group, I believe local elections are incredibly important. I will always try to take the time to stay informed. I understand that not everyone has the time to research candidates, but I will never be able to understand or excuse a lack of effort or caring.
Without empathy and compassion for others and for life, the whole world burns. No matter how many times my voice is drowned out beneath a sea of issues and problems and opposing viewpoints, I will continue to shout. I will continue to scream out for those without a voice and for what I believe in because I can.
I am now holding onto another shred of hope, one that eight-year-old me once held onto, that by the time I’m 35, we will have had a female president. While I’m no longer afraid of being forgotten, I am still afraid of being unable to change something or make a difference, but every moment I try is a moment of success in my continued march for what’s right.
So, no matter what everyone says about being unable to make a difference, it is those who stand paralyzed who are at fault for not trying simply because they’ve fallen victim to the common beliefs of society.
It is up to you, so do something.
