Dazai Osamu -Oblique Sun 7-1

　Naoji's suicide note.

　Sister.
　No, you can't. I'll go first.
　I don't know why I have to live at all.
　Only those who want to live can live.
　Human beings have the right to live as well as the right to die.
　My way of thinking is nothing new, it's just that people are too scared to say such a natural and primitive thing out loud.
　If you want to live, no matter what you have to do, you have to live strongly, and that is splendid, and I am sure there is a human crowning glory in that.
　But I don't think dying is a sin either. There is something lacking in my life. It's not enough. I have been living my life to the best of my ability.
　When I entered high school, I had my first encounter with a strong and tough grass friend who had grown up in a completely different class from the one I had grown up in. In order not to be defeated, he turned to drugs and fought back in a half-crazed manner. Then he became a soldier, and there, too, he turned to opium as a last resort. You don't understand how I feel, do you?
　I wanted to be vulgar. I wanted to be strong, or even violent. I thought it was the only way I could be a friend to the people. Drinking was not enough for me. I had to be dizzy all the time. The only way to do that was with drugs. I had to forget my home. I had to rebel against my father's blood. I had to reject my mother's kindness. I must be cold to my sister. I had to be cold to my sister, or else I would not get a ticket to the people's room.
　I became vulgar. I began to use vulgar language. But half of it, no, sixty percent of it, was a pathetic ploy. It was a lousy trick. In the eyes of the people, I was still an obnoxious, pretentious man. They didn't really want to get to know me and play with me. But then again, I can't go back to the salon I abandoned. Now, even though 60 percent of my vulgarity is artificial and tasteless, the other 40 percent is real vulgarity. I am so disgusted by the snobbish elegance of the so-called upper class salons that I can't stand it even for a moment. I can't go back to the world I left behind, and the people will just give me a seat in their malicious and shitty audience.
　In any world, a weak and flawed weed like me may be destined to disappear by itself, without thought or shit, but I also have a few things to say. However, I do have some arguments.
　All human beings are the same.
　What kind of thought is this? I don't think the person who invented this mysterious phrase is a religious person, a philosopher, or an artist. It is a word that came out of the people's bar. Like a maggot, it came out of nowhere, without anyone knowing who said it, and covered the whole world, making the world awkward.
　This mysterious word has nothing to do with democracy or Marxism. It is, without a doubt, a word hurled by an ugly man at a beautiful man in a bar. It's just frustration. It's jealousy. It's not an ideology or anything.
　But the angry voice of a jealous man in a tavern, with a very ideological look on his face, went around the people, and somehow it got entangled with their political and economic thoughts, and gave them a strangely vile atmosphere, even though the words had nothing to do with democracy or Marxism. Mephistopheles might have hesitated, ashamed of his conscience, to substitute such reckless rhetoric for thought.
　All human beings are the same.
　What a despicable phrase. Words that heal others, but also heal themselves, and make them abandon all efforts without any pride. Marxism asserts the superiority of the working man. It does not say that they are the same thing. Democracy insists on the dignity of the individual. It does not say that they are the same thing. But only Gyuutaro says that. "Heh, no matter how pretentious we are, we are all the same.
　Why do you say they are the same? Why can't you say that they are superior? Revenge of the slave spirit.
　However, this word is really obscene and eerie. People are frightened of each other, all ideas are adulterated, efforts are ridiculed, happiness is denied, beauty is tarnished, glory is dragged down, and I believe that the so-called "anxiety of the century" stems from this mysterious word.
　Although I thought it was a nasty word, I was also intimidated by it, frightened and trembling, fumbling with everything, constantly anxious, nervous, and helpless.
　I guess I'm weak. The grass must have some serious flaw in it. He's a slacker, a slacker, a slacker, a slacker, a slacker, a slacker, a slacker, and a slacker. In the event that you have any questions concerning where and the best way to get in touch with your loved ones, please do not hesitate to contact us.
　Sister.
　Please believe me.
　I did not enjoy playing at all. Maybe it's the impotence of pleasure. I just wanted to get away from my own shadow of a nobleman, so I went crazy, I played, I went wild.
　Sister.
　Is there any sin on our part? Is it our sin to have been born into a noble family? Just because we were born into that family, we have to live in fear, apology, and shyness forever, just like Judas' family members.
　I should have died sooner. But for one thing, my mom's love. I couldn't die thinking of that. Human beings have the right to live freely, and at the same time, they have the right to die at any time, but I believe that the right to die must be reserved while "Mother" is still alive. But I believe that the right to die must be reserved while my mother is alive, because that would mean killing her as well.
　No one is grieving over my death anymore, and no, sister, I know how much you will grieve over my loss… No, let's not get into false sentimentality, I'm sure you will cry when you hear of my death, but You will cry when you hear of my death, but if you think of my living suffering and my joy at being completely freed from that disgusting life, your sorrow will gradually dissipate.
　The person who condemns my suicide and says that I should have lived on, without giving me any help, and only criticizes me verbally and with a smug look on his face, must be a great person who would not mind recommending that His Majesty open a fruit shop.
　Sister.
　I think it would be better for me to die. I don't have what you call the ability to live. I don't have the power to fight with others over money. I can't even take advantage of people. Even when I played with Mr. Uehara, I always paid the bill for him. Mr. Uehara was very reluctant to do so, saying it was the petty pride of an aristocrat, but I didn't pay out of pride, I paid out of the money I earned from Mr. Uehara's work. It would be a lie to simply say that I respected Mr. Uehara's work, but the truth is, I don't know for sure. It's just that it's horrible to be treated to someone else's food. In particular, it is painful and distressing to be treated to a meal with the money earned by a person's own arm, and I can't stand it.