I love Donald Trump, but I don’t like him.
I think he’s racist, greedy, narcissistic, devoid of empathy and compassion, and the unapologetic perpetrator of sexual assault on numerous women. I find him to be a profoundly dangerous and despicable human being. But I do love him.
I love him when I remember his humanity, when I remember he was once an innocent, curious, loving child like all of us. I love him when I imagine how miserable he must be to act with such insecurity and hatred, and when I consider how unloved he must feel to show such lack of love for others. I love him when I remind myself that I am dedicated to love, and that real love has no conditions, not even with Donald Trump. Not with anyone.