The woman's own narration was in all Freud's expectations. From childhood, the family begins, tracing back to the source. She consciously resists the language system and also resists the restriction of knowledge concepts to her unique experience. But she doesn't have her own language, and she can't completely break free from morality, sin, and the person itself, that is, emotion, or fall into the love that she despises herself. So no matter how rebellious she was, she still couldn't escape this already built prison.
In the end someone dies, no matter who it is, it is inevitable, tearing away all the surface of hypocrisy. The deep-rooted identity, the resulting gender differences, sexual violence, and the brutality and antagonism of the person themselves, all ran out directly.
Sexless happiness? Super-gender friendship? Will they exist? Sex, normal and abnormal, legal and illegal, has been established and monopolized anyway.
Self-telling by female addicts, comments by asexual men. A strong male replaces a weak female as the bearer of delirium. Extreme sexuality and mental disorders appear in a way that reverses gender in common sense. This is a premeditated, pretentious gesture.
This turbulent world is actually so uniform. A man who has been dead for so long still monopolizes the interpretation of the world. Many people who have been dead for a long time are monopolizing the interpretation of this world. This world exists because of their interpretation.
Everyone lives in this world.
This is desperate.
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