There’s been an awful lot of build up to this day – the 7th of May, twenty fifteen. Today the British public will flock to their polling stations and scratch a pertinent cross next to who they want in power for the foreseeable future. It’s been heavily reported in the news and has featured all across social networking platforms for months now, each of them battling it out to be the most favourable.
It will be my first ever general election vote – the last time I was only 17 and therefore too young. But this time round I’m 22 and ready to have my say. I know it won’t be as exciting as I think but I’ll be proud to know that I’ve contributed to the outcome for the first time ever.
I know exactly who will get my vote; I’ve known for a while. I’ve done my research and watched the debates, ready for this day and Great Britain, I’m coming at you.
It can be frustrating, though, watching the politicians hammer away at each other, sometimes getting super bitchy in the process. It’s never nice to see someone tell somebody else that they’re basically shit. And people get so heated about politics – I totally get why but it’s never a good time for anybody really, is it?
I don’t think I’ll be staying up to watch the counting: 4am just isn’t my scene but I can’t wait for the result. Friday morning will be a totally different Britain.