I am a psycho. This isn't humility or self-deprecation. It's just a fact.

In my 26 years of life, I've seen all sorts of people. That's why people naturally called me "crazy guy," "lunatic," or "psycho" rather than my name, Shin Jungwoon. Maybe that was my real name all along.

From my thoughts to my actions, I've never once been on a normal track. In kindergarten, when the kid sitting next to me stole my snack, I threw up in front of him. He probably expected me to get hit or cry. No one expected me to vomit.

In elementary school, there was a kid who bragged about his game console but never let anyone borrow it. Unable to stand it, I put that console in the toilet and flushed. That day, I heard the sound of justice disappearing down the drain.

In middle school, there was a guy who wasn't even a bully but acted like one. A meal tray flew into his face in front of the whole school. It was the first public premiere of my life.

By high school, I was exhausted. Thinking, "Ah, I'm really going to end up in big trouble at this rate," I decided to try something called reformation. I went to the library to study, but it was too noisy, so I told everyone "I'm an outcast" and locked myself in the counseling room to study. Ironically, that was the quietest place.

From then on, people either avoided me or worshipped me for no reason.

Still, I had to reform. If I lived like this forever, I wouldn't just be a psycho; I'd be a social misfit. So I suppressed it all and moved to Seoul.

Six years passed like that. I sealed away my psycho energy, wore the mask of a normal human, went to college, got a job, and even started dating.

The problem was... that relationship.

My first girlfriend. I truly loved her. But I didn't know her clothing style would drive me crazy. At first, I endured. I understand that women wear pretty clothes and dress up. Sure... I understand... completely...

But why does that dressing up have to involve so much skin?

This is Korea, not America, right? My blood pressure rises just seeing an off-the-shoulder top, but one day she wore a tank top. Wow... I really saw stars that day.

I know I'm conservative. I admit I have the mindset of a Joseon-era isolationist. It's also true that because she's my first girlfriend, I was as obedient as if I were serving a princess. So at first, I thought, "Does she not have clothes?" and bought her some. I told her dozens of times. I tried saying it gently, and I tried saying it seriously.

But she didn't change. Only then did I realize: Ah, this isn't a problem that can be solved with words. This is a problem you only understand by experiencing it yourself. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. I didn't hesitate for long. You're supposed to do these things without thinking.

That day, she was getting ready to go out again. A tight crop top and hot pants.

Fine. Then me too.

Without a word, I quietly released the psycho energy I had suppressed for six years. I took off my normal pants and calmly pulled out a similar pair of shorts and a crop top from her closet and put them on.

Of course, women's clothes couldn't possibly fit this heavy body. There was a 200% chance of being reported if I went out like this. But there was no embarrassment. What I wanted right now wasn't my own shame, but hers.

"Look. You try being in my shoes."

However, the expression on her face when she saw me at the door went beyond shock to pure contempt. In that moment, I realized. I'm not embarrassed, but...

I'm just a very, very little bit anxious.

Surely... she's not going to break up with me, right? No... I didn't think that far ahead.