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My madness is mine to own. I nurture it and feed it and do nothing to push it away. I own it but I didn’t plant the seed for it. I dont cause the actions and words I use to feed it. I’m not owning this culture or this society or this nation or this history. The acts of love and hate aren’t mine. I wont own Mathew Shephard or Sandy Hook. I wont own Rosa Parks or a women’s march. I’m alone and seperate in this. I’m taking it in as fuel for a madness that makes me want to tear the heads off fascists and hug their victims. My madness is mine. My madness is my shield. My madness is my weapon. My madness is my inner conflict. My madness is seven billion people stepping over each other for life. My madness is in Harper Lee and The Clash and Rogue One. My madness is understanding your needs and your lies and your journey. My madness is mine as it overwhelms its self. There is so control or freedom. There is just everything flowing into eachother as it spins into a growing universe. That is my madness. It is all mine. My madness.

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