Dear Donald Trump:

This is the letter that you'll never read. 

Why? 

Because it's in my diary, and this is a fucking zombie apocalypse. The culprit? 

Why, you, of course. 

You are a great zombie. No seriously, I mean that. You have accomplished some great things, including the job title "President-elect" on your resume. And here's my hopeless attempt to unzombify you, despite that this is my diary and that we are in your zombie apocalypse. (Sorry; I saw Dr. Strange last week and it reminded me anything is possible so...magic.) And here goes my unzombification spell, that has or could have the power to transform this apocalypse into cornucopia or utopia or not-this-opia. 

You desire more than your most recent, said resume asset? But of course you do. Greatest U.S. President ever? No, you want something bigger than that. I can feel your tanha. The media has made you powerful and the Freudian id has taught thee well. But you want to go down as the greatest leader and quite possibly greatest person who ever lived. Sad fact is, you are, or at least seem to be, a perverted version of that because of your damn ego. 

You want people everywhere, for generations to come, to love and respect you as much as any of the truly greatest characters in history? Then put aside the Magnate, rid yourself of your Gollum, your Sauron, your Ring, and become who you could (to an infinitely superior degree of spontaneity and surprise than your latest achievement) be born to be. Right now you are a fool, a zombie, or again at least seem, in the global public eye, to be. That's holding you back from being the truly greatest. 

How to lose your ego?  Remember that you aren't so small and petty.

Remember that you are God, as there is only God, or any infinitely-positively-connoted signifier you wish to summon, and that you have everything. You are everything. Meditate every day. Minimize the ripples in your mindpool; you'll find it results in exponentially greater cognitive efficiency and firepower. Shift down a level from your headspace to your heart. Feel your heart, physically and energetically. Be in this space more often. Do some yoga. Love your body a little more, you will in turn love everybody and everybody will love you a lot more. One level lower in this enervator, if you will, and we're in the gut. Hara. You are very, very great in this floor of Soul Tower, Mr. Zombie President-elect. I don't need to give you any diary advice when it comes to gutspace. 

Anyway, that's all folks, if you're reading this letter, then the apocalypse isn't as bad as I'd thought. Donald, if you're reading this, that is great, very great, but there is such a tiny chance the unzombification spell shall justify its intent that I won't even mention it.