I have seen laughter, tears, the full spectrum of human emotion.

We set up shelters from the little signs in front, only for them to get washed down by rain. We drank the vaccines from their vials once they finally arrived, and one guy blamed every negative thing that happened to us on us drinking them. Every single setback, we rebounded from, as long as we rushed to the back of line as soon as we did.

As long as we were in that line, they had to let us vote.

After almost two years, my basic survival instincts were all that were left. I didn’t care to look behind me anymore. As long as I hoped and as long as I coped, I could believe I would be the final person trapped in this cycle of torment. Finally, I saw only two hundred people ahead. One hundred. Fifty. Twenty. Before I knew it, I was next in line.

I checked the former site of the writing on my hand to see my list of candidates. As I suspected, none of the ink remained- all worn away by sweat, rain, and by pulling out the nuts planted from the pieces of the granola bars the poll workers handed out so long ago.

Finally, after marking down whoever I think I wanted to vote for on the voting machine with inexplicably inverted screen colors, I cast my ballot. My hell was over. I looked behind me to head back to home.

I saw thousands more behind me. I had forgotten about the midterms.

As they dragged me to the back, I wept. To :vote: is my boulder of Sisyphus, and yet I can never imagine myself to be happy repeating my trial.