I thought I'd gotten used to living without writing, but today, after all this time, I suddenly feel I should record the thoughts I've had in the past, have now, and may have in the future. Perhaps one day, when my child is grown, he'll read my words and understand everything I've done. I don't expect him to understand. I just hope someone will know the journey my heart has taken. After all the commotion, there's always a sudden silence that catches you off guard. I've realized that words are still my most loyal friends and confidants. Perhaps they're the only ones who truly understand me. And only with them can I face the most authentic self hidden in my heart. I remember my psychology professor saying in college that, according to Freud's theory of psychoanalysis, the personality has three parts: the id, the ego, and the superego. The id is a person's biological instincts and impulses. The superego is the internalization of social rules. All human behavior begins with the id, and only takes shape as the ego after the superego corrects whatever behavior violates social rules. There are no legal sanctions here, no moral restraints. Just as my professor said: "Perhaps what you think is illegal, but reasonable
This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.
