On a warm Wednesday morning, the sun rises shining its rays through my window. My mom enters my room and solemnly informs me the republican candidate lost.

A feigned sorrowful look on my face, we hug and she leaves, letting me dress. Though I’m ten years old, I know I won’t become only a certain party.

Four years later, the same person sits in an older version of myself at my lunch table. Harsh words passing from one friend to another over last night’s election.

“I’m voting for the Republican candidate!” shouts one friend.

“The only clear choice is the democratic candidate!” retaliates another. 

I sit in silence, slowly dunking my pizza dippers in sauce and reflecting on my views.

I know that I will be able to vote in the next election. Our whole grade is voting and it means I get to vote on who matches my views. I know I’m not voting for any party in particular. I’m not my parents or my friends. I am voting for someone who will make the right choices to make the world a safer and better place. 

I don’t care who is democratic and who is republican. I care who is qualified to lead our country with pride. I get to be a part of the decision next year. The decision that tells me I can change the way our country is. The decision that tells me whether I may glue my eyes to the TV horrified at a gunman slaughtering innocent people. The decision that we may see two midnight tuxedos at the altar smiling wide, reciting their vows to one another. 

Being who I am,  telling the country what I want, prominent in my mind. This election, I will vote for the candidate who has the same values as I do. I’m not a duplicate of my parents, not a mindless drone of my friends. I will vote for the vision I want to see in the future.