Not much motivates me to stand in the rain with a clipboard, haranguing clearly uninterested strangers, but the remain campaign did. Along with the 64% of 16 -24-year-olds who turned out to vote, and who were largely remainers, I voted because I thought the EU referendum was the most important political exercise I would ever take part in. The choice seemed to be between an open, tolerant Britain and a campaign based on lies written on the side of a bus.

I will never forget watching in shock, bleary-eyed and half-awake, as David Dimbleby confirmed that Britain was leaving the European Union. I was devastated. I was furious with David Cameron for being so cowardly as to call an unnecessary referendum to appease his backbenchers, and convinced that the country had changed irreversibly for the worse.

One year on, I simply can’t work up anything approaching a similar level of emotion about Brexit. Both the government and the opposition have committed to leaving the European Union. The negotiations have begun and the clock is ticking. And that’s OK. I’ve become a so-called re-leaver: I didn’t want to leave, but that’s what will, and should, happen.

It goes beyond resignation: my overwhelming feeling now is to wish that politicians would just bloody get on with it. Look, Brexit is only one issue affecting young people, and it’s not even the central one. Those who have held out hope over the past year for us to remain in the European Union argue that it is the defining event of our lifetimes: it will shape the world we will grow up in. But that’s true of any number of other problems we face.

Our experiences are shaped by a skewed and broken housing market that means we may never be able to buy our own home. The broken promise that each generation will do better than the last falls squarely on our shoulders. The uncertain future of work is something that for this generation is a tangible reality, not an abstract possibility.

This isn’t to say that Brexit won’t have an impact on those things we care about so deeply. It most probably will – and detrimentally. But we have to avoid tunnel vision, focusing solely on the negotiations at the expense of other pressing concerns. Brexit can’t be allowed to define our politics. There is more to debate, campaign and lobby for than Britain’s place in the European Union.

Labour recognised what other parties didn’t: voting overwhelmingly against Brexit doesn’t mean we’re still hung up on it

The story of the election is young people expressing that frustration when voting. The Lib Dem pledge to campaign to keep us in the EU did not cause young people to flock to the party in the way promises on tuition fees once did. Theresa May’s gamble to centre the election on Brexit backfired spectacularly. The remarkable “youthquake” for Jeremy Corbyn’s Labour was in no small part because the campaign was issues-driven.

Labour recognised what other parties didn’t: voting overwhelmingly against Brexit doesn’t mean we’re still hung up on it. Instead, we want solutions to the mental health epidemic disproportionately affecting young people, the crushing weight of student debt – the highest in the English-speaking world – and the devastating impact of climate change. Zeroing in on Brexit as the focus of all political discussion does nothing to address those concerns, and – worse – may even distract from them.

Endless commentary over the past year about soft Brexit, hard Brexit, any-adjective-you-like Brexit doesn’t get to the heart of the matter. The most important question isn’t what kind of Brexit we want, but what kind of society we want to live in. Naturally, Brexit will play a part of that, but it’s not the complete answer. Young voters realise this: we’re not fighting against Brexit, but for a better future. It’s why those of us who were distraught exactly a year ago at losing that battle have since moved on.