Dear Mr. President,

I am scared.

Scared of you, and scared of the future.

I am scared because you and your party members believe that you're above science and that our environment, our only and only home, will suffer irrevocably for your ignorance. The thought that we are slowly but surely killing our planet yet you continue loosening pollution laws and putting a noose on the government agency meant to protect--no, save the environment, absolutely sickens me. You refuse to see the fatal mistake that is not acknowledging global warming, and soon our footprint will cast a shadow so large that we won't be able to find the light again.

I am scared because your right-hand man would prefer to electrocute the LGBTQ+ community into fitting his mold rather than let them live beautifully as they are, and that you yourself dehumanized the transgender community by barring them from your beloved military...through a tweet.

I am scared for my fellow citizens with the "wrong" skin color — anyone who isn't white. If I wasn't so violently busy feeling my heart wrench as I read about yet another hate crime or act of police brutality, I would laugh at the irony of someone like you following our first non-white president. But the laughter disappears when I recall that racism appears to be something you incite rather than condemn.

I am scared that a white supremacist felt empowered enough to drive knowingly into a crowd of people and take a woman's life, and you still found a way to blame the victim. How can I not be deathly afraid when your immediate reaction to a vicious gathering of Nazis (because that is what they are) is to not unequivocally denounce their ideology.

I am scared because, in your America, nuclear warfare is something I have to worry about. At eighteen years old, in between juggling the stress of leaving home and entering the upcoming chapter of my life that is college, I am utterly terrified that after years of baseless threats, "fire and fury" will be the straw that breaks North Korea's back; that today I might go to sleep in safety and wake up in a war zone; that giving you the codes and letting your finger on that button could turn out to be a mistake this country won't recover from.

Mr. President, I am scared. So, so scared. I am scared we could conceivably have 3 and half more years of this chaos. I am scared that you aren't scared. And the worst part is knowing you don't care.

But despite being afraid, Mr. President, my hope in humanity remains. I often remind myself that I will enter my adult life doing everything I can for everyone and everything I can, that many others like me have been and will continue doing so, and that, if we work together, you and the fear you kindle will fade into nothing more than an orange stain on this nation's history.

I am scared, but not for long.

Sincerely,

A scared American you should be scared of.