Dear Donald Trump,

You don't know me, but I know you. You are the billionaire running for president of the United States as the Republican party's candidate. I am a college student, barely affording a state school's tuition. We have more in common than you think, however.

Mr. Trump, you and I both come from loving families. We both are strongly opinionated. Both of us are thick-skulled and hate admitting we are wrong. Let's not forget that we are privileged, white, USA-born citizens.

And that's about where our similarities end.

I have relatives that like you. I mean, when it comes to business and economics, you know what the hell you are doing. In a country where jobs are scarce, your skills are an important asset. You have me convinced that you can do great things, and then you open your mouth.

Back in April of 2016, you were featured on NBC's "Today" and you stated that every transperson should be allowed to use the bathroom they desire. In that single comment, you had won my respect and I leaned towards you.

In the following July, you named Gov. Mike Pence as your running mate, and soon after, rumors flooded the media that you promised to sign anti-LGBT bills.

I regret to inform you that you did not lose my vote in the moment you chose Mike Pence.

It was the moment I discovered that your running mate is a strong supporter of conversion therapy. Therapy. A "medical practice" where LGBT people are broken, their identities shattered, and thus sent into all types of mental illnesses. Roughly, 50% of conversion therapy "patients" commit suicide before the completion of their "treatment."

It was the moment that your running mate took his place at the debate podium that my girlfriend broke down into tears. This...man...if you can even call him that, standing on the stage looking smug. Despite the fact that he supports the right to discriminate against LGBT folk.

It was the moment that your running mate left the debate podium without even being question a single second on his hate speech and terrifying homophobia. My girlfriend began shaking, panicking, and fearing for her safety.

Then, your 2005 tapes came out. You claim it's just "locker room talk." Joking about sexually assaulting women is never right. Ask any of my friends who have been sexually assaulted, sexually harassed, or raped. They no longer trust someone to love them again. They fear simple touches can turn violent.

And what did their schools do?

Nothing. The paperwork claimed it was "drunken and foolish behavior."

To the point where my friends' peers did not report their assaults.

It's your "locker room talk" that makes others think it is okay to follow in your footsteps - and act on it. Because how serious can sexual assault be if a man can joke about it and STILL become president?

Mr. Trump, you claim to want to make America great again, but which parts of America do you actually give a damn about?

How can anyone trust your word on making America some dream land again if you, yourself, are filling it with hate?

Mr. Trump, all you are doing is making America fearful again.

"What do you have to lose?"

Our freedom. Our rights. Our safety.

I, politely, ask you, Mr. Trump, to drop out of the race.

Because the best thing you can do for America to make it great again is to stop.

Sincerely,

A member of the LGBT community who wants to get married one day.

A woman who wants to believe that her assailants would be punished.

A millennial who has a whole life for a politician to ruin.