I know very well that our democracy is flawed. I know it. I know we mainly cling to the illusion of choice and voice. I know.
But still, every time I vote, I feel this charge of electricity, alive. It’s the one time I think we stop to consider the other people in this country; what they believe and hope for.
I walked through the rain this morning with my voting card in my hand, getting slowly soggy, and felt scared but powerful. Tremulously anxious about what will happen but full of the certainty that I was doing what I could.
I’m not informed enough to be able to say I know what I’ve chosen is right. I’m not confident enough that I’ll be celebrating or mourning tomorrow. I don’t think there’s a winner in this game. We’re all losers and we’ve all embarrassed ourselves.
I hope that in this illusion of choice, the outcome is one that says we’re not unwelcoming, not ungrateful, not unintelligent. The EU isn’t perfect but belonging says we are part of something, together. I want the world to see that we choose them, not just us.