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Writer's pictureAlain Lorenzo Aycardo

The Best Thing About Being 18


Art by Jun Vince Dizon



If life was a video game, being a child felt as if I was playing just the ‘lite version’.


I had this idea that there were so many things for me to ‘unlock’ as soon as I turned 18. I couldn’t wait to get a taste of beer that I’ve seen in so many movies. I was excited to get behind the wheel and drive to where I wanted to go on my own. Since I come from a traditional household, I was also looking forward to having a girlfriend.


Years later and well past the age of majority, I could say that beer is definitely a social experience more than it is a drink. Learning how to drive is liberating, but traffic in Manila makes me just want to ride the LRT. Having a girlfriend? It’s nice to have that person you can share a special bond with but trust me on this – you will live even without one. That can wait until later on in life. Besides, you’ve got your family and friends around you.


Having experienced most of the things I dreamt about, what else was there to being an “adult”? This question was answered four years later from my 18th birthday when the 2016 elections came around. I was a newly registered voter then, excited to finally cast my vote at the polling stations. For the first time, I could watch the election returns with a sense of personal attachment and much more interest as I truly felt a part of the process. I wasn’t simply watching from the sidelines. In hindsight, even though the effects of that election have been dismal, I look back fondly at Election Day and even more so the day I got registered as a voter.


I remember waking up early one Saturday morning. My grandfather, who was always the early bird, took me, half-asleep and a bit disoriented from last night’s late night, to the Geriatrics Foundation Building in Manila that housed the Commission on Elections. Alighting from the tricycle, I could see a line of people stretching out to the street. It was a hot and humid morning. The air was dry, and beads of sweat were trickling down everyone’ foreheads. Amidst the discomfort, first time registrants stood patiently waiting for their turn. At that moment, I realized that Filipinos truly cared for our country.


The line inched little by little until I was finally inside the dilapidated office. Candy wrappers, cigar butts, and improperly filled registration forms littered the corridors which made the building feel less of an office. There were even more people inside than there were outside which meant shirts drenched and foreheads lined with beads of sweat. In spite of all the challenges, I didn’t see one person walk away that day without being registered.


As Election Day rolled in and I was seated at my polling station and my ballot in front of me, Sexbomb’s “may bilog, may bilog na hugis itlog…” was a refrain that was on my mind. I looked for the candidate’s I was voting for and shaded the circles as carefully as I could to ensure that my vote would count. I fed the ballot into the machine which gobbled it up and thereafter printed my receipt. I put my index finger out and had a smile on my face as a drop of indelible ink settled on my finger. I whipped my phone out and took a selfie with that ink-stained finger. I’m looking at that photo as I write this, and I can say that something really changed in me that day.


Don’t just rant about the government on social media. Do your part and make your voice heard through your ballot, but remember that before you can do that, you have to register. Even if you think your candidate has a slim chance of winning, go out anyway and get registered. We deserve better leaders and government and it’s on you and me to make that happen.


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