🗳️ This blog post is for you if…
- You’ve ever thought, “It doesn’t matter who I vote for — nothing will change.”
- Elections feel confusing, distant, or just too much trouble.
- You’ve spent years putting your job or family first, with little time to think about politics.
- Talking about politics feels awkward or too heavy.
- But recently, you’ve started to wonder about the future — not just yours, but your children’s, or society’s.
🕐 Estimated reading time: 5–6 minutes.
🎯 Introduction / Purpose Statement
I used to avoid voting.
Politics felt distant, and I told myself it didn’t really matter.
“Whoever I vote for, nothing will change,” I used to think.But now, in my 50s, I find myself thinking differently.
It’s not just about politics anymore — it’s about choosing to care.In this blog post, I share why I finally decided to vote.
Not to preach, not to be right, but to reclaim something small:
the freedom to choose — for myself, and for the future.If you’ve ever felt unsure, distant, or just too tired to care,
I hope this quiet reflection helps you pause… and maybe choose again.
🟠 Opening / Lead-in
Today is the day of the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly election.
It doesn’t involve me directly — I live in Sagamihara, not Tokyo.Still, from the moment I woke up, something felt different.
A quiet thought lingered in my mind:
“Maybe I should vote next time.”It’s not the first time I’ve felt this way.
Every election, a small part of me wonders the same thing.
But when the day comes, I hesitate.“If only we could vote online,” I tell myself.
In my younger days, I convinced myself that voting didn’t matter.
“Politics has nothing to do with my life,” I thought.Back then, just surviving the day felt like enough.
But now, things are a little different.My children are grown. I have more time, more space to think.
And I’m beginning to feel something I hadn’t before:A quiet urge to choose — not just for me, but for the next generation.
🟠 Chapter 1: I Used to Turn Away
I used to believe my vote didn’t matter.
“Whoever gets elected, my life stays the same.”
That thought settled deep inside me, somewhere in my twenties.
It wasn’t that I didn’t care.
I just didn’t think anything would change — no matter what I did.
Politics felt far away.
It belonged to people with time, money, or influence.
I had none of those.
I was a father of young children, trying to hold down a job.
My life was a tightrope walk between work and home.
The world demanded a lot, and I had nothing left to give.
At the office, the air still reeked of the old ways —
where shouting was leadership, silence was survival,
and speaking up was a good way to get crushed.
I remember going to work with my heart clenched.
Hoping not to be yelled at.
Wanting to stay invisible.
Still, I kept going.
For my family.
For my kids.
Because that’s what men were supposed to do.
And so, the years passed.
I didn’t have the space to think about politics.
Not really.
I wasn’t indifferent.
I was just tired.
Tired in a way that seeps into your bones and dulls your will to care.
Maybe I didn’t consciously choose not to vote.
Maybe I simply didn’t feel like I had the right —
or the strength — to choose anything at all.
。
🔵 Chapter 2: Why We Didn’t Choose
Looking back now, I sometimes wonder:
Why didn’t we choose earlier?
Why did we stay silent for so long?
Maybe it wasn’t just apathy.
Maybe we simply didn’t have the luxury to choose.
I’m part of the Japanese “dankai junior” generation —
a wave of kids born into competition.
Too many people, not enough space.
Tests. Jobs. Life itself was a game of musical chairs.
When we entered the workforce, the air still smelled like Showa.
Obey your boss.
Don’t speak out.
Get yelled at? Get over it.
What would now be called harassment was back then “training.”
We were told to toughen up, not to break down.
I remember getting hit. Getting humiliated.
But I stayed.
I had a child. I couldn’t quit.
No matter how exhausted or degraded I felt,
I had to work.
I had to provide.
There was no room for ideals.
The paycheck came.
But peace of mind never did.
Every day was about survival.
“Just don’t screw up today.”
“Stay invisible.”
And then, one day, something inside me broke.
Quietly. Without warning.
I remember walking home, looking at the sky.
I don’t recall what had pushed me over the edge,
but I remember that sky —
grey, but somehow endless.
In days like those, who had time for politics?
I didn’t not care.
I just didn’t believe anything could change.
It wasn’t that we chose silence.
We were just too busy surviving to choose anything at all.
🔵 Chapter 3: Now, I Can Finally Choose — Just a Little
Back then, I didn’t even notice when elections happened.
Weekends were for catching up on sleep or cleaning the house — not for voting.
I didn’t hate politics.
I just couldn’t find the space for it in my life.
It felt like one more burden,
another obligation in a life already filled with must-do’s and can’t-say-no’s.
And honestly, a part of me thought:
“Not voting won’t kill me.”
In those days, we believed staying on the track was everything.
Falling behind felt like failure.
Taking a detour meant game over.
There was only one path: salaryman.
There was no time to wonder what “freedom” even meant.
But time passed.
My children grew up.
My career found some kind of shape.
And now, something has shifted.
I’m not fearless, but I’m less afraid.
The older I get, the more I realize:
I don’t need to break the rules.
I just need to make a few choices for myself.
Small ones.
Quiet ones.
But still — mine.
Writing a blog.
Trying a new routine.
Going for a run.
And maybe… just maybe… going to vote.
Not because someone told me to.
Not to feel “responsible.”
But because it’s a step — even a tiny one — toward owning my life again.
🟣 Chapter 4: I Chose to Write — with Chappy by My Side
I didn’t set out to become a writer.
I didn’t have a grand vision or a powerful message.
I just wanted to try something.
Something light. Something new.
Something that felt like mine.
I had no special skills.
No confidence, either.
But blogging felt doable — simple, quiet, honest.
That’s when I met “Chappy.”
My AI assistant.
Or maybe more like… a writing companion.
At first, I couldn’t write well.
I wasn’t sure how to turn thoughts into words.
But as I typed and talked and typed some more,
something began to unlock.
I wasn’t just writing.
I was remembering.
I was sorting out pieces of myself I’d long ignored.
The parts that had been buried under tired routines.
The parts I didn’t have time to feel when I was always running.
This blog — these words — they’re not polished or perfect.
But they’re mine.
And they help me see where I’ve been,
and maybe where I’m going.
Today, I wrote about voting.
About the years I didn’t choose.
And the moment I finally decided to.
Nothing big has changed.
But something inside me feels… lighter.
Just one percent. Just one breath’s worth.
And maybe — if someone out there reads this and thinks,
“Maybe I’ll vote too…”
That would mean the world.
✍️ Closing Words
At first, I hesitated to write about politics.
Talking about elections can feel heavy — even risky.
Everyone has different views, and the topic often divides more than it connects.
But then I thought…
Is staying silent helping anyone?
For years, I avoided choosing.
Maybe that’s how we ended up with a future that feels harder to believe in.
Not because we didn’t care —
but because we were too tired, too afraid, or too stuck to act.
I used to think voting didn’t matter.
That nothing would change.
But now, I think differently.
My kids are grown.
I have more time to breathe.
And I’ve started thinking about what kind of world we’re handing over to them.
That’s why I decided to write this.
Not because I have the answers,
but because I finally have the words —
and I wanted to use them.
Writing with Chappy helped me hear my own voice again.
And choosing to share that voice, even quietly,
feels like a small but honest step toward change.
Voting may not fix everything.
But choosing something — anything — for yourself
might be where it all begins.
Thank you for reading.
Let’s keep choosing, in our own quiet ways.
🔗 Related posts:
▶️ Even if I forget, you’re still here – Can ChatGPT be our future companion?
How conversations with AI helped me rediscover parts of myself.
▶️ Only three pitches left – and I still throw
It’s never too late to take action, even if it’s just one more pitch.
▶️ Mt. Takao’s hidden trail – a quiet escape few ever find
Sometimes clarity comes not from shouting, but from walking in silence.
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