Let me start with the truth: I’ve failed. More than once. Failure isn’t unusual, it happens. But it’s harder to swallow when you do everything right. When you show up with facts, public support, workable proposals, and the system shrugs.I brought documented plans to protect Gozo’s environment. One official laughed. Another called them “too ambitious.” That’s how irreversible damage gets ignored.I had pressured the Gozo and Tourism Ministry on the rate of environmental degradation on Comino. Yet, years later some of the suggestions I had made were finally implemented, yet this was also just a joke. Two years on, Comino is still an open air market disguised as a nature reserve.A cleansing department I proposed within the Ministry of Gozo (something like Clean Malta – but for the smaller island) was later introduced, but it was stripped of public input, built to fail.We stood at Castille demanding reform to a planning system that does not respect our right, our say of what goes on in our villages. Nothing changed.And what about Fort Chambray’s historic barracks? A 1,400-signature petition, expert backing, still no protection.The effort was there. The silence was louder.Each of my attempts was either ignored, gutted, or buried.The message wasn’t subtle: if you’re young and fresh, you’re tolerated, but not taken seriously. And yes, part of this is about age.Youth is still viewed in Malta as a form of immaturity. Be ambitious, and you’re arrogant. Be critical, and you’re dismissed. Ask the same question twice, and suddenly you’re “difficult.”The system doesn’t mind young people. It minds independence. It minds pressure. It minds pushback.So when the latest State of the Nation survey revealed that just 19.8% of Maltese youths believe politics is important to their lives, I didn’t flinch. I nodded.Because those numbers aren’t shocking, they’re familiar. They’re the end result of a system designed to break your spirit and then blame you for not caring.Youths in Malta aren’t disinterested. They’re disillusioned. Discarded. Politics here is a closed loop, same names, same families, same fake rivalries propped up to keep real reform at bay.It’s not just that young people are excluded, we’re actively shut out.Try to get involved seriously and you’ll run into a wall of patronising smirks, slow-walked replies, and political theatres.We’re told to “be patient” and “start small,” as if our futures can wait.And sure, on paper, there’s no shortage of opportunity. Scholarships, councils, internships, organisations, endless press-released schemes designed to prove how “invested” everyone is in the next generation.But most of them are just that: paper. Glossy PDFs, photo ops, announcements with no follow-up. Appearances of inclusion without the power to shape anything real.You get a seat at the table, but it’s the kids’ table. You’re allowed to speak, as long as you say the ‘’right’’ kind of things.You can join organisations, but good luck having your proposals implemented unless they’re politically convenient.These aren’t avenues for real influence. They’re pressure valves. A way to say “look, we’re listening” while quietly ignoring everything that doesn’t fit the agenda.Speak out about environmental collapse? You’re naive. Demand accountability from government officials? Now you’re “politicising”.It’s all good until you ask for change that’s actually inconvenient. That’s when the meetings get cancelled. That’s when the funding quietly dries up.That’s when you’re left shouting into a void.This is what most people don’t understand: we tried.We joined organisations, we joined protests, we spoke up. And after all that, we watched the same people in power do the opposite of what we proposed while thanking us for our “input.”So no, we’re not disengaged. We’re exhausted.What Malta faces isn’t a youth crisis, it’s a system crisis. One that keeps cannibalising the future and demanding gratitude in return.A system where rule of law is eroded, state capture is normalised, and constitutional and judicial reform are treated like distant, optional luxuries rather than national necessities.When we speak out, we’re told to calm down. When we stop speaking out, we’re told we don’t care.It’s a closed loop. A neat trap. Designed to keep young people present, but powerless. Still, the irony is that we care deeply about mental health, social justice, climate change, equality, and digital rights.We care about the kind of future we’re being handed, even when it feels like caring is a waste of energy. But our politics doesn’t reflect that.It reflects deals behind closed doors, entrenched elites, and a refusal to let go of power. So we find other ways: online spaces, grassroots movements, mutual aid groups.Places where at least there’s some honesty, even if there’s little hope.If we want to fix this, slogans won’t cut it. Neither will another youth scheme with zero teeth. What’s needed is a total political culture shift: real civic education, real power-sharing, and most importantly, real respect.Not just being heard, but being heeded. Not just being told we matter, but being shown that we do/count.That’s one of the few reasons I’ve decided to run in the next general election.Not because I believe I have all the answers, but because I’m tired, tired of seeing young people ignored, dismissed, and excluded. I’m tired of watching our future be decided behind closed doors by people who treat our concerns like afterthoughts.If we want politics to reflect our generation, we can’t just ask for a seat at the table – we have to claim it.And maybe, just maybe, by stepping up, I can help show others that politics can belong to us too.It’s time to stop blaming youth apathy and start building a system that’s worth our engagement.Because if politics continues to exclude us, the real question won’t be why young people don’t care.It’ll be whether there’s anything left worth caring about.Luke Said is a Gozitan activist and a new PN candidate•