Not long ago, a friend who went through something similar said to me, “You forget. You move on. Everything is fine and great, and then in a flash, you remember all over again and the rage fills you like it once did.” This, too, has happened. It is not a calculated rage. It is not planned. It is not welcome. The feeling springs forth from the dark places in me, and sometimes I feel that this rage is only trying to help, to remind me, to make me vigilant, and sometimes I feel that the rage is evil, accusatory, telling me to walk away, to be the one to leave next. I feel it. It is not a good
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