Dear Nonvoter

Dear Nonvoter,

We need to talk.

You know how they say that one of the secrets to maintaining a great relationship is to make sure you never go to bed angry? Well, lately I’ve been going to bed angry with you every damn night.

You might be confused by this, because you probably didn’t even realize that we were in a relationship. This is understandable, and since you don’t seem to get out much (or read the newspapers, or watch the news, or, apparently, look up from your funny cat videos long enough to notice the sea of protesters marching past your front door,) I’m going to explain our relationship to you.

You see, once you turned 18 the two of us (along with millions of other legal adults) got hitched. Tied together. ‘Til death do us part. Irrevocably one. We entered into a partnership wherein each one of us was given a small part to play in steering the ship of state, each one of us with one hand on the wheel, turning this great ship wherever it needed to go (hopefully away from rocky shoals and into clear open waters). Sure, it was an arranged marriage, but those can work out if both parties just put forth some kind of an effort. Which is exactly what we need to talk about.

You haven’t been doing your part. At all. And in consequence we are not only headed for those rocky shoals, we are straight up on them. And it is. All. Your. Fault.

I know that you don’t agree with this. I know that you think sitting back and watching us crash somehow absolves you of any, let alone all responsibility, but I am here to tell you that you are wrong.

I can hear your protests now. Me? I’m to blame? What about that guy over there, the one who is trying to steer the ship into dangerous waters; how am I more to blame than him? Nonvoter, please. You and I both know that he was always going to behave irresponsibly, that if he was given a chance to control the wheel he would steer us into a cliff every single time. So for you to sit back and watch us crash, all while saying it’s not really your problem is pretty disingenuous. And even if you, like him, actually believe that the ship is better off destroyed completely than continuing on as it has been, don’t you think the decent thing to do would have been to allow the rest of us to at least get off of the ship first? After all, there are a lot of people here who can’t even swim.

Okay, enough with the metaphors: I’m going to put it to you straight. Vote, dammit. I don’t even care if you vote the same way I do, or even close to it. I really don’t even care if you turn your vote into some kind of ineffectual protest vote (*cough*Gary Johnson/Jill Stein/Mickey Mouse), because I know that once you get that out of your system you’ll at least be familiar with the mechanics of voting, and therefore prepared to come back around the next time and vote a little more wisely.

Remember that unless you are a white male who owns property, it wasn’t so very long ago that someone died just so that you could have the chance to vote. And if you are one of those people who are outraged that people aren’t showing enough “respect” to our veterans by not standing up for the flag, than consider how much more disrespectful you are being when you refuse to participate in what that flag itself stands for.

And, just so we’re clear about what the future holds: I am through going to bed angry about this. In fact, I’m through going to bed at all. And as far as I’m concerned, until you step up and start taking this relationship seriously, I’m going to be making it my job to make sure that you don’t get any sleep either.