Conversations in the Cemetery (but his voice doesn't go past the dirt)

Chapter 1: Just a messed up graveyard schedule

Dazai makes time to go into the graveyard once a month.
It's not a lot but just enough. If he were to go more frequently, he fears one day he'll bury himself right next to Odasaku.

Dazai wondered if the soil is warm or whether the bones that once held a wise man's flesh felt the vibrations as the bandaged man walked. Sometimes he wishes to dig up the patch where he leaves flowers and see the empty coffin just so he can laugh and scream at the world at how Oda isn't there.

Oda isn't there. He's gone. Talking to the dirt is pointless. Talking to yourself is pointless.

Unfortunately for Osamu Dazai, his mind came equipped with the knowledge of how everything is of no use. He genuinely wonders if even suicide is pointless, maybe just let everything run its course. Though Dazai also knows there's no finish line, nor a start line. There is nothing and twenty two years are not enough to fully acknowledge that fact.

Then there's the times when he's been to Odasaku's grave less and less untill he stops. It's only some months later, always in Autumn, that he remembers.

If the world is nothing, if life is meaningless and if Osamu Dazai is only talking to glorified dirt, it's at those times that he can accept it. He lies down by a cold stone, meant to represent a dead man, and stares as clouds blacken into a night sky.

"Sometimes doing nothing is doing something after all. Isn't that right, Odasaku?"

It's just like that how he spends the next day sitting by his desk at work with a growing pile of unfinished documents. One might say he's doing nothing, Kunikida might say that to be exact. But to the boy in the bandages, he's doing something so that hands will tighten around his collars that shake with anger to replace the lingering feeling of graveyard dirt.

He's been doing this for a long time.
He plans to do it for a little while more.