Adolf Monologue from The Creditor

From The Creditor by August Strindberg

male · contemplative · 58 sec

I wouldn't like to go quite so far as that. Of course the thought crops up now and again, how calmly I should be able to live if I were free—but she scarcely leaves me before I immediately long for her again, as though she were my arm, my leg. Strange. When I'm alone I sometimes feel as though she didn't have any real self of her own, as though she were a part of my ego, a piece out of my inside, that stole away all my will, all my joie de vivre . Why, my very marrow itself, to use an anatomical expression, is situated in her; that's what it seems like.

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