Eight years ago, we voted for Obama under the banner of hope, which always bothered me. "Hope," like "faith" seems like a clever substitute word for "work," a convenient shortcut that ignores what needs to be done to enact change. But whatever I thought then, I am horrified that people are voting for Trump under the banner of pride. Pride over perceived persecution for being white. Prideful anger at perceived wrongs just because other marginalized groups gain attention and rights they fought so long for. Pride that lets them ignore the fact that by voting for Trump they are in bed with white nationalist groups like the KKK. The pride that you can hear in people's voices as they, lifelong members of a multicultural nation, say out loud that multiculturalism doesn't work! I decried Hilary early on as another entitled candidate cut from the same cloth as Jeb Bush. Wow. Just...wow. I never truly understood entitlement until I heard Trump in rallies, conferences, especially the debates, declaring himself the winner each time like a bratty child who doesn't get punished for throwing his dinner plate to the floor because mom is just...tired. I voted early to keep Trump out of office. Whatever happens over the next two days, I will have to go back to the real world, which is full of people who will vote for him, which includes many people I love. I have maintained silence for a number of reasons. It would be wrong to not throw my hat in once with something other than a poem or a clever meme. I don't want likes, and if I could shut off comments, I would. This is just my marker in today's history. Good luck to everyone the next twenty-four hours.