I remember crying into my milkshake. We had made Americana burgers and shakes to celebrate Election Day and the joy fizzled out watching the numbers roll in. I couldn't sleep in the months afterward and I started therapy back up.

Hope is lost. Not just for me, not just for you, but for all the children. I was a cheese maker.

Everyday I wake up in some Hitler remake and can’t stop crying. God, it’s awful. Hold on, need to go, my mom’s knocking on my door, she made me some tendies.