America, I have a confession to make. I voted for Donald Trump. And I’ve come to regret it deeply.

Yes, yes—I know what you’re saying. I shouldn’t have voted for him in the first place. I should have seen this coming. I should have known he wouldn’t help me win Sandra back.

You’re right. I was a fool. And I’m sorry for my role in this current mess. But it’s worth understanding where I, and many like me, came from.

I thought he was speaking to me, in a way Hillary Clinton never could. He told me he was going to “Make America Great Again.” A lot of liberals don’t realize how powerful that phrase was. When was America great? When Sandra and I were together, of course! How could I not vote for a man who promised that?

When someone inspires that sort of hope, that sort of optimism, you overlook a lot of their flaws. I waved away his choice of Mike Pence as his running mate, telling myself he’d need a Washington insider to work out the deals that would convince Sandra that we should never have broken up. I turned a blind eye to the news that he hadn’t paid income tax in years, thinking that it showed he knew how to work the system to his advantage, like he’d need to do to arrange for me and Sandra to have a chance meeting on the subway, which would finally let me show her how much I’ve changed for the better over the last three years.

I kept the faith even as he pursued a distinctly non-getting-me-and-Sandra-back-together agenda. I rationalized his acts as part of a master plan. Of course, he was pursuing a shoddy, ill-conceived attempt to normalize relations with North Korea: it would be a great honeymoon spot. It was only fitting that he was attempting to repeal Obamacare without replacing it with anything: in the absence of health care, we’d have to find comfort and support in the arms of the people we loved.

It wasn’t until he pushed his tax cuts for the rich—giving people richer than me more than enough money to buy Sandra the sort of fabulous diamond necklace I’d always dreamed of giving her to win her over again but never had the money to acquire—it became apparent that it was all a bunch of lies. He wasn’t really going to prioritize helping me win Sandra back. He never was. But I was too blinded by his promises to see it. To see that he’d never had my best interests in mind after all. To see that he’d prioritize giving his friends and family cushy Cabinet positions ahead of the desires of the people who put him in office.

What a fool I was.

I’m sorry, Sandra. I made a terrible mistake. My eternal love for you blinded me to the dangers of a terrible man, and I helped that terrible man get elected. I am filled with regret, for myself, for America, and for you. I regret leaving you. I regret hurting America in an attempt to get back with you.

And I regret, most of all, that this crucial issue, of Sandra and I not being together, is once again ignored by the people in charge in this country, who continue to enrich themselves instead of aiding the people most in need.

After all, what can one person do? Move on with my life, since she’s made it unequivocally clear that she's no longer interested in me? Please.

We're now accepting list submissions! Although we're contractually prohibited from telling you whether Santa had anything to do with that decision. Join the PIC newsletter for weekly comedy headlines. Save 10% on comedy classes at The Second City using code PIC.