Donald Trump won the presidency.

At 9 am on November 9th, I rolled over to unplug my phone from its charger. Before my eyes had fully opened I was googling the election results, my fingers typing instinctively while my brain remained asleep. I already knew whose name I'd see. I was confident that as a country we'd have had the decency to elect the candidate with poise, government experience and an agenda promoting tolerance.

I was wrong.

I saw those five words and my stomach dropped. I hadn't been at all prepared for such a nightmarish outcome... for months I'd laughed it off as an impossibility. Realizing that nearly half the country endorsed such a monster made me sick. I wanted to stay in bed all day as the world fell apart around me.

But I had classes and responsibilities to attend to, much to my chagrin, and so I forced myself to carry on with my day. My boyfriend gave me a sympathetic hug and we discussed our fears for the nation's future. My classmates and I drew our chairs together and talked somberly about election statistics. My professor, a man of Muslim faith who is not a U.S. citizen, quietly joked that if Trump deported him we at least wouldn't have to turn in our final projects.

Yes, I am a democrat and it hurts me deeply that this joke of a man was favored over the candidate whom I saw fit. But don't mistake my pain as bitterness at seeing my party's choice rejected. Don't equate my fear, my anxiety, my disgust with merely being a sore loser. To do so would be to compare a glass of water with an entire ocean.

I fear for the safety of my friends who aren't white, heterosexual males. Because it can't be guaranteed, not anymore. Not with KKK members standing on bridges in broad daylight. Not with the countless reports of hate crimes committed in Trump's name. I fear for women like myself, and pray that we won't be stripped of the right to decide what to do with our own bodies. And perhaps more than anything else, I fear for the children being raised in Trump's America, who will grow up associating ignorance, intolerance, and immaturity with leadership.

I'm ashamed to watch our country take this staggering step backwards. It's been nothing short of horrifying.

I know that what's done is done. I know that we must attempt to unify as citizens so that we can move forward whole, instead of fragmented. But the wounds are deep and raw. And so for the time being I'm still retreating. I can't yet bring myself to forgive those who elected this individual to govern us. And I certainly won't be calling him my president any time soon.