Danielle Deiseroth

As the bleachers ascend on Low Steps and the flurry of deadlines crowd my planner, the rush of bittersweet end-of-year emotions hits me as they have every spring semester. My late-night walks home from Butler—normally a manic five minutes in which I go through all the things I need to do the next day—gradually become more contemplative as the number of items on my to-do list begins to dwindle. The warm night air invokes a rush of excitement for the rich malaise of summer evenings just around the corner.

Much like the majority of the Columbia community, we, as Columbia students, woke up this morning in a heavy state of shock and sadness. Campus was eerily quiet, and most people's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, crying, or both. It's fair to say that last night's victory came as a huge surprise to most of us—and not just because we tend to exist in our liberal millennial echo chambers. For most pundits, pollsters, and politicians, the prospect of a Trump presidency wasn't one to fear.