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I’ve got a dark side. I can close my eyes and make it all that way. Pretend I’m not a manifestation of dualism. Darkness transcendent.

So I embrace my pain and anger. No, it’s more than that. A bit carnal really.

When I use my pain and anger at bushfires, racism, climate change, Remembrance Day, police killings and stories of people incinerated in cars (there’s never a PTSD warrior around when you need one) to goad myself into attacking something else I think needs attacking, I own that. It’s not just my trauma and karma and diagnoses making me ignorant and unable to read symbols. It’s me. I don’t have a problem with it, even if you do. Saying how I feel when I feel it is as close as I’m gonna get to sincerity.

When I have regrets it’s often because I’ve pulled punches out of faux politeness; while directing contempt at my foes who do the same. Yeah, my hypocrisy reeks. But I’m still carrying it. I own that too. So if I’ve offended you in recent days I don’t apologise. I’m all hypocrited out right now.

But I may have discovered a better outlet for the fires inside me than the internet. Or rediscovered it. I’d been keeping it in my trophy case where it was gathering dust. (No, Mr Internet Monitor, I’m not talking firearms and race war; though I’m guilty of abusing those symbols. And being hypocritical about it.) I like to imagine it might help direct my bile at bigger targets, but I have my doubts. I guess I’ll see. So will you probably.

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