Canada

I don’t know who I am anymore. For years, hating Justin Trudeau wasn’t just a pastime—it was my identity, my purpose, the fuel that kept me going. Every scandal, every policy, every smug press conference gave me something to rally against, something to sharpen my arguments and justify my frustration. And now? Now he’s gone, and I’m adrift in a world that suddenly feels empty. Who am I without the daily outrage, without the certainty that everything wrong in Canada could be traced back to him? I spent so long defining myself by my opposition to Trudeau that I never stopped to think about what came next. Now that he’s out, I feel as lost as a ship with no lighthouse—no villain to fight, no cause to cling to, just an unsettling silence where my rage used to be.