Sweat beads on my forehead under the hot lights. The cameras are on, meaning half a nation's eyes are now on me. I have twitter, I've seen the cruel words they say about me. They think I'm senile, the truth is; I'm normally quite astute. These little internet sleuths may think they know the truth, but they have no idea what goes on outside of their little technological boxes. However, I'm not complaining. I'm actually quite relieved that they haven't yet put the pieces together. Sometimes, I even play into the "old-man" gimmick. What started off as me getting flustered when I'm around him, the media spun into a narrative that I have dimentia. I figured it would be best to allow that rumor to spread, because I know that the world isn't ready for an affair between two gay presidents.
