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[God, he wishes he could vent properly. Not like he ever got to do it often back home, but there were a few times and he always relished it.]

I'd rather not set myself on fire.

[It's him, he's the problem. His stupid brain and his stupid hangups and his stupid sense of responsibility and his stupid - well, everything.]

What stopped you from using that brain of yours from just ruining fucking everything that pissed you off?

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