Going to vote, going to vote. I'll squeeze it in after work. I'll go down to the school in my neighborhood and get in line. I'll give the nice person my address and he or she will look me up, confirm my information, and check me off as an official person who is voting.
I've voted in a few different places and they all look the same.
Local neighborhood people running the show, some strange view-blocking mini cubicle-type stands, a police officer coolly surveying the scene, ready to pounce on anyone who gets a little crazy.
Sometimes for some reason I feel like if I just put my voting paper into the machine the wrong way the officer might arrest me or maybe think I'm on drugs. This, of course, won't be true, but he doesn't know that.
But usually, I always succeed and in goes the paper, right way, and everything. Maybe I get a smile from the booth person or the officer like a you did good son, we're proud of you. Maybe not.
I sure feel good after voting. Maybe my I Voted sticker finds it's way to Instagram and I get to feel good about all the likes I'm going to get and how many people I potentially, and will never know, made feel horrible about not voting, or at least question whether or not they should have.
With a spring in my step, I'll leave victorious, just another insignificant single individual making his way in the world and stepping up to the plate for democracy.
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