Transcribed from hardcopy (parentheticals not in original):
“Nov. 25? (I was right) 2012
Hastings Park and Ride
I’ve discovered why my id is dead. I exist almost entirely in the superego because I fear to tread the id. I have led myself to believe the id is where all the bad stuff is, that it’s where all the monsters I have been, and may become, dwell. I’m beginning to see a flaw in my thinking.
Housing my sins requires the id to store things in memory, a passive act. The id isn’t passive, though. The id isn’t mindful, or contemplative. It simply is. It simply does. The id is the muscle that facilitates being. I have let mine weaken due to an ignorant belief that it is bad. The result is the pathetic circumstances I find myself in today. I will correct this thinking. (I imagine it thusly; if we look at psychology the way we look at a computer, the id is the power source, the ego is the processor, and the superego is memory.)
What, then, of the monsters and sins? They don’t exist, I think. Most likely they are figments bred from shame of the things that happened to me. Shame, the work of the superego. I’ve been burying myself all along.”