I was proud to be American. I was sure Hillary Clinton would win.

It was unimaginable that such a dangerous buffoon could defeat a qualified, whip-smart, sane candidate.

With an ocean separating me from the US, the presidential election felt surreal.

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I had been keeping up with the campaign in smug ex-pat fashion. Without the constant drone of 24-hour news cycles, I could pick and choose when and where I got my election coverage while knowing no matter who won my life would more or less continue as normal in my adopted country of New Zealand.

I voted online - for the first time, feeling good as I ticked the Clinton/Kane ticket.

My heart was in my throat as I watched the rolling election updates.

I couldn't comprehend a Trump presidency. I never even allowed myself to consider it.

It wasn't until the very end that I realised Donald Trump, narcissistic reality TV star and accused sexual predator, was now President Trump.

Perhaps I was trying to protect myself from trauma, like when you hear a noise outside your window in the middle of the night and you think to yourself "oh, it's just a neighbourhood cat" and not a dangerous burglar coming to violate your home.

But it was a dangerous burglar, coming to violate the country I was born in and still identify with.

Campaign promises such as banning foreign Muslims from entering the country, repealing Obamacare and defunding Planned Parenthood are inflammatory ideas that could damage the framework of the country.

Fortunately, many of the campaign promises Mr Trump made are logistically impossible (read: Mexico/US border wall).

I was proud to be American.

Proud of President Obama and the things he had achieved in the past eight years. But, last night, I just felt mortified.