No Longer Human 《 Osamu Dazai 》

THE FIRST NOTEBOOK

Mine has been a life of much shame

I can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being. I was born in a village in the Northeast, anf it wasn't until I was quite big that I saw my first train. I climbed up and down the station bridge, quite unaware that its function was to permit people to cross from one track to another.

I was convinced that the bridge had been provided to lend an exotic touch and to make the station premises a place of pleasant diversity, like some foreign playground. I remained under this delusion for quite a long time, and it was for me a very refined amusement indeed to climb up and down the bridge. Thought that it was one of the most elegant services provided by the railways. When later I discovered that the bridge was nothing more than a utilitarian device, I lost all interest in it.

Again, when as a child I saw photographs of subeay trains in picture books, it never occured to me that they had been invented out of practical necessity; I could only suppose that riding underground instead of on the surface must be a novel and delightful pastime. I have been sickly ever since I was a child and have frequently been confined to bed.

How often as I lay there I used to think what uninspired decoration sheets and pillow cases make. It wasn't until I was about twenty that I realized that they actually served a practical purpose, and this revelation of human dullness stirred dark depression in me. Again, I havr never known what it means to be hungry. I don't mean by this statement that I was raised in a well-to-do family-I have no such banal intent. I mean that I have had not the remotest idea of the nature of the sensation of "hunger".

It sounds peculiar to say it, but I havr never been aware that my stomach was empty. When as a boy I returned home from school the people at hoem would make a great fuss over me. "You must be hungry. We remember what its like, how terribly hungry you feel by the time you get home from school. How about some jelly beans? There's cake and biscuits too." Seeking to please, as I invariably did, I would mumble that I was hungry, and stuff a dozen jelly beans in my mouth, but what they meant by feeling hungry completely escaped me.

Of course, I do eat a great deal all the same, but I have almost no recollection of ever having done so out of hunger. Unusual or extravagant things tempt me, and when I go to the house of somebody else I eat almost everything put before me, even if it takes some effort. As a child, the most painful part of the day was unquestionably mealtime, especially in my own home,

At my house in the country the whole family-we were about ten in number-ate together, lined up in two facing rows at table. Being the youngest child I naturally sat at the end. The dining room was dark, and the sight of the ten or more members of the household eating their lunch, or whatever the meal was, in gloomy silence was enough to send chills through me.

Besides, this was an old-fashioned country household where the food was more or less prescribed, and it was useless even to hope for unusual or extravagant dishes. I dreaded mealtime more each day. I would sit there at the end of the table in the dimly lit room and, trembling all ovrr as with the cold, I would lift a few morsels of food to my mouth and push them in. "Why must human beings cat tgree meals every single day? What extraordinarily solemn faces they all make as they eat! It seems ypto be some kind of ritual. Three times every day at the regulated hour the family gathers in this gloomy room.

The places are all laid out in the proper order and, regardkes of whether we're hungry or not, we munch our food in silence, with lowered eyes. Who knows? It may be an act of prayer to propitiate whatever spirits may be lurking around the house. . . ." At times I went so far as to think in such terms.

Eat or die, the saying goes, but to my ears it sounded like just one more unpleasant threat. Nevertheless this superstition (I could only think of it as such) always aroused doubt and fear in me. Nothing was do hard for me to understand, so baffling, and at the same time so filled with menacing overtones as the commonplace remark, "Human beings work to earn their bread, for if they don't eat, they die."