The Duelist

I just met a person tonight who was almost pure id. He lashed out with obvious rage at women, he relished playing this sniper game because he got to bust people’s heads open, and established territory over his bed.

It’s an awesome force. But it’s hiding something. The superego is not dead, and the guilt it is inflicting is so strong that the id has to exaggerate itself so it can suppress the surges of remorse. The ego is whipped but the id is defending it.

I hope he sorts everything out by the time he’s 30.

I’ll tell you why.

It’s because a fragment of my soul is in her. I left it there. I gave it away to her. I can take it back, if I wanted to.

I don’t want to.

She can have it. She can take it with her when she decides to leave.