Many consider Hamlet — the angst-filled Prince of Denmark — one of Shakespeare's most frustrating characters. He doesn't do anything. He paces around the castle and its grounds, dressed in black, brooding over how to kill his uncle and avenge his father, but he never actually does anything. He thinks too much. In the wake of 2016 presidential election, I can't help but wonder how Hamlet's Twitter feed would read. Now, in this time when many feel that “hell itself breathes out contagion to this world,” what if Hamlet could instantly channel every emotion into a pithy post or scathing tweet?

Social media allows us to publish our emotions as they occur, and since Donald Trump's election I know I'm not the only one whose social media feed has become an endless scroll of emotional confusion. With each new fluffy, feel-good expression of hope and each new heartbreaking, vitriolic show of contempt, my smartphone tempts me to join the conversation. My fingers twitch. Each day I could write posts that “do such bitter business as the day would quake to look on.” But I, like Hamlet, do nothing.

I did nothing because when I woke up on Nov. 9, I wanted to punch every person who voted for Donald Trump in the face, including family members. When I said that out loud, I thought, “What's happened to me?” I am not proud that I felt this way, and in that moment, I understood the real, emotional depth of my contempt for those who voted for President-elect Trump. If I had posted to Facebook in that moment, it would be difficult to look some of my own family in the eye come Thanksgiving.

When we were all certain that Hillary Clinton was going to win, it was easy to say, “These are not bad people. These are not stupid people.” But after losing, I realized that I didn't actually believe that. I didn't actually feel any compassion for Trump supporters. I had become bitter and angry in a way that I was not even aware. It would have been easy to call those emotions “righteous anger” and fuel it with “likes” and retweets. But who would that fire have burned?

As I watch my friends and family continue to process their emotions online, it becomes clear the outrage permeating social media shows more distraction and ignorance than any sort of commitment to defending the dignity of fellow Americans who have been so long without it. I am fearful for the safety of our black and brown citizens and immigrants. I am fearful for Muslim Americans and refugees. I am fearful for LBGTQIA individuals across our country, and I am fearful for the future of Americans with disabilities, especially those who may soon be without access to health care. But the voices of these communities — and Dave Chapelle's SNL monologue — have all reminded us that these fears are not new. Our posts, like the results of the election, continue to prove that we are more in touch with our screens than with real human beings. We are spending so much time worrying about America's next head that we are neglecting the condition of its heart.

In his now well-quoted “white-lash” comments, Van Jones articulated that no one wants to feel that the “progress” of part of our nation comes at the expense of another. In this moment, it feels as if the progress of straight, white, Christian, male-dominated America is coming at the expense of a diverse, progressive America. But the progress that we have made over the past eight years — and the last 30 years — has come in part at the expense of the men and women in rural areas who voted for Donald Trump. If you don't believe that, go to coal country in central Appalachia. Go to Ohio. Go to any of the places that were so red on the map.

The heart of America is bruised and full of fear. Instead of searching our emotions for the next cry into the endless void of social media, let's look for those who are fearful for their safety and their well-being. Let's focus on protecting the vulnerable, not pitying or proselytizing them.

Instead of perpetuating hateful and bitter emotions, let's discern what it means to be an ally in our jobs, our schools and our neighborhoods.

Let's not let our egos and self-centered shock over our democratically elected president threaten to plague the next four years with the same inaction that fills the first four acts of Hamlet — and filled the last eight years of Congress. Our willingness to substitute posting online for participation in each other's lives has set the stage for Donald Trump's presidency. Whatever he does, it's the changes we, the people, make that will determine if it ends in tragedy.

Jonathan Tomick is a high school English teacher in the Baltimore area; his email is jktomickwriting@gmail.com.