Here we are, you and me.

Both of us in disbelief.

I can’t subscribe to #notmypresident. Not because I don’t feel that way. Because it sounds too much like not my problem. Assuming you do become our president, you will be my president and my problem.

I didn’t actually follow that you led the birther movement.

I don’t watch reality TV, I’ve never seen yours. ‘You’re fired’ only distantly rang a bell to me.

When you came on the scene as a candidate in the primaries, I was confused. Him, the hotel guy?

I never laughed at or mocked your candidacy though. Not because I’m above that. Because I was so confused, because I didn’t understand where you came from, your ascent. The disorientation I felt over you just wasn’t funny.

I feel a little responsible for your winning, for your not losing. I think a lot of us do. I regret I didn’t volunteer enough for Hillary. Didn’t send more than one small check. Didn’t stop being for Bernie.

But even more deeply, I feel there was something dangerous in how I turned my eyes away from the growth of my nation. The growth of the Apprentice. And a movement which surged with self-righteousness, insisting that President Barack Obama might not be a citizen. Why? Have you ever said why he might not be a citizen? I was too busy celebrating our advances and living my life to look at you. And maybe not looking at you caused you, the President Elect(oral College) to happen.

But, ultimately I reject the notion of my personal responsibility for you.

You will have an impact on my existence, but I did not and will not have an impact on your existence.

You’re very little. And this part is reassuring. There’s a universe and galaxies. There was a Big Bang, even if you deny it. There are black holes that stretch our solar system away from us into the mysterious abyss. There is a time and space continuum to contend with. Do you know how small you are in the universe? The District of Columbia itself is miniature, a few ugly Legos tacked together. The United States of America is like a plastic toy cowboy or businessman.

But you, President Elect(oral College), are an ant.

And yes, while ants can trail along with their friends, carrying 20 times their own weight, they just as often find themselves squashed under a toddler’s pointer finger, or drowned in a droplet of their spittle.