Such as, how the hell did I really become the President of the United States of America.
I am often forced to ask myself, is this real? Am I really in the White House, as of right, or is this all a result of my very fertile imagination?
Did the people of the United States of America really cast their votes for me? If they really did so, what madness might have driven them to such depths of desperation?
What trickery did the gods use to cause them to suspend their proper functioning of their intellect, and caused them to act against their best interests?
Even against their own survival, by taking the risk of making me, Donald J Trump, into becoming their POTUS?
Yes, into becoming probably the Dumbest President of the United States of American?
And so it is, that I oftentimes find myself asking these questions of myself, even of the very few people whom I am able to confide in.
So it is that I am now covered in concealed bruises, where I have pinched myself, hoping to wake up out of this situation. Which, in my more lucid moments, I am finding to be a frightening, nightmarish reality. From which I earnestly wish to escape, by being able to sleep.
How, I think and ask myself, did I, Donald J Trump rise from the rich businessman I am, to be the President of this once great and soon to be great again nation of ours?
But let me not inconvenience myself with pointless reflections and ruminations on the past. A past which American people have so overwhelmingly elected me to undo.
And a challenge which I intend to meet, by 'making America great again', by 'making America First.'that my
If the truth, which is rather rare at present, were to be told, there are increasing number of times when I am feeling that all of this POTUS business is over my head and too much for me.
But, what am I to do? How am I to rid myself of this burden which threatens to destroy me; whatever I do?
To be continued.
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