Yesterday, I cast my vote in the 2025 national and local elections. As I dropped my ballot into the machine, a wave of emotions washed over me—hope, anticipation, and a sense of responsibility.
Though not my first time voting, the experience felt as significant as ever, perhaps even more so.
In Pasig City, where I reside, the mayoral race was particularly intense.
Incumbent Mayor Vico Sotto sought his third and final term, facing off against challenger Sarah Discaya. The campaign period was marked by fervent debates and a flurry of activity on social media platforms.
Supporters from both camps passionately defended their candidates, leading to heated exchanges that often spilled over into the digital realm.
Despite the noise, Mayor Sotto stayed the course—highlighting his track record, transparency, and hands-on governance. His message clearly hit home for many Pasigueños—and even for some folks as far as cities in other provinces, who joked online they’d vote for Vico if only the ballot let them “cross borders.”
As the results came in, it became clear that the electorate had spoken decisively. Based on partial and unofficial results aggregated from Comelec data as of May 13, 2025, 3:12 PM, and covering 98.27% of election returns, Mayor Sotto led with 345,375 votes, while challenger Sara Discaya received 29,104 votes.
On the national level, the senatorial race was just as gripping. Early tallies showed Bong Go dominating with 26.4 million votes, followed by Bam Aquino with 20.6 million and Bato dela Rosa at 20.2 million. Other big names like Erwin Tulfo, Kiko Pangilinan, and Pia Cayetano filled out the top 12. Whether or not you voted for them, it’s clear this next Senate lineup will play a major role in where we go next as a country.
As a millennial-slash-elder Gen Z voter, what struck me most this time was the energy—not just in the precincts but from the people around me. I saw students, first-time voters, tricycle drivers, senior citizens, digital natives and neighbors who never used to care much about politics. Now they were lining up, asking questions, proudly posting their indelible ink online.
I’ve voted before. But somehow, this one reminded me of my first time—the butterflies in my stomach, the feeling that I was part of something bigger than myself. That, maybe, all this talk online wasn’t just noise. That we’re learning, slowly but surely, that democracy doesn’t begin and end on our screens. It happens at the polls. It happens when we show up.
It might not be perfect. Not every winner was my pick. But I believe every ballot mattered.
So here we are—still hoping, still showing up. Still believing that every vote, no matter how small, adds up to something that looks a lot like change.
