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Rage is so much deeper than anger; it’s the sort of thing that bursts out of you. It’s uncontrollable; that’s in its very definition. Rage isn’t content to be a feeling, something you jot down in your diary or unpack with a friend over drinks. Rage demands action. It hooks you with its claws, dragging you forward, imbuing you with tunnel vision, turning everything around you bright white, except for that one image, right there in front of you, pulsing along to the blood throbbing in your temples.
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