Dear Mr. Not-Yet-President

Dear Mr. Trump,

You will not my president, because I am not an American, and you are not an Australian, and I find these facts very comforting. Though I share this world with America, I watch your tv, and eat from your franchises, I buy your brands, and I grew up knowing that America was the most powerful country in the world, and now that I am older, and I know that it is far more complicated than that, the vast mess of global power does not allow me to speak that sentence with such certainty. And you pose a very big threat to that. You threaten the huge, unbalanced ball of tangled speeches and declarations that comes with being a world leader, being a human who can make decisions on behalf of other humans, important decisions, you pose a threat to this world’s complications and contradictions and paradoxes.

You threaten to make it all simple.

Because your ideas, your opinions and your promises are simple. You have seen the world from your point of view, and your point of view is the view of a straight, able-bodied white American and that is not an accurate display of neither the world nor America and from this you have received your perceived assumptions, and you make them sound like facts.

And you are compelling, everything you do you do with such conviction that it leaves people feeling that whatever it is something that needs to be done, and it is you who has to do it. You make people want to join you in your certainty, in your knowledge in the one, absolute truth that you hold so tightly, so certainly that you feel free to preach it, safe within the reasoning that you can never be proven wrong.

And that is no good, because the issue is there is no one, absolute truth and you keep saying there is and I keep looking for one, but it’s just not there. Not all Muslims are terrorists, refugees are not trying to take anything over, and homosexuals have no interest in making everybody else homosexual, and truth is never absolute. That’s not how truth works.

And I want to talk about Megan Kelly, but I’m not going to, because, Mr. Trump, you are not an original man. You’re comments are old and your views are older, and I do not care even a little bit because you are inevitable. You are everywhere, you happen all over the world, and the issue is not that you are a sexist; the fact that you are a sexist is not the biggest thing about you, there are lots of sexists, you are not unique. The issue is that you are running for President of the United States and as hilarious as you toupee is, I do not want you running a country that has over four thousand nuclear weapons because I like it when people are alive.

You worry me; you make me nervous, because you are so convenient. Here you are, with you absolute truth, and your bad comments, and bad hair, and you make it seem that with some direct action and enough adamant denial of ethics, all of America’s problems will go away, and that sounds so nice. The sweet relief of whatever fear isn’t.

But you are not the hero, you do not get to wear your underwear on the outside, you do not get excused for all the damage you do defeating the bad guy, so please, sit down and stop this.

Kind regards.