‘Please Kill Me’

I'd like to start all over again, wouldn't I?, W. asks. I'd like to confess, to tell everyone my story only to wipe it away, to erase and delete until there was nothing left. I'm forever waiting for judgement, W. says. I'm waiting for the party leader to expel me, or the police to arrest me. I want to be sent down, W. says. I want to place my neck on the guillotine – indeed, that's all I want.

Pass sentence on me! Tell me what I've done wrong!: that's my message to the world, W. says. And indeed, I do more and more wrong, W. says. My guilt becomes deeper with every second that passes, and isn't that part of my problem? Doesn't it become more and more acute? Soon I'll no longer speak, only wail, W. says. Soon I'll only type the words, please kill me, over and again.