“Sometimes I get sad,” murmured the President from an armchair in the oval office. Shifting the quilt draped across his legs, Trump started to rise but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

“I try to do my best, you know. Thinking of tremendous ideas to help this great country. Build a wall to keep out all the Mexicans: you got it. Bully companies to spend more money making products in America: any time. Get rid of people’s insurance and all the regulations for banks: easy. But not once will CNN tell me I’m doing a good job. Why? Why won’t they tell me?” the President implored, his voice tightening in grief.

“When I get thinking about all the Democrats who keep challenging me even though I won, and the media who keeps saying people don’t like me which isn’t even true and ALL MY ENEMIES WHO ALWAYS MAKE ME REALLY, REALY MAD I JUST… Just.. just…” Trump let out a long, low sigh and looked over to the window gathering drops of cold rain. “But sometimes,” he continued, “sometimes the rain makes me blue.”

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