In fact, I want my pain to be inflicted on others. I want no one to escape. But even after admitting this, there is no catharsis; my punishment continues to elude me, and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself. No new knowledge can be extracted from my telling. This confession has meant… nothing.
… Now I’m done. And I may retreat to my bed to watch the film. I’d continue reading the book, but huzzah, I was silly and allowed my old college tutor to borrow it. Guess a re-purchase is in order…