A Secret Confession, or My Earnest Devotion to You
Right now, as I move my pen, I feel a strange sense of intimacy, as if you and I are sitting alone together in the quiet corner of a room. The wind may be howling outside the window, but here, only my voice and your heartbeat mark a steady rhythm. What I am about to tell you is not the kind of idle gossip one shares with just anyone. This is a private whisper, offered at the cost of my very life, dedicated solely to “you”—the irreplaceable person following my words at this very moment. I ask of you, please, relax, lean back as if sinking into a deep armchair, and lend an ear to my story.
Do you not find yourself, in sudden moments, overwhelmed by an indescribable solitude? Even when surrounded by many friends, laughing and walking through bustling streets, have you never felt a precarious sensation, as if a deep darkness has suddenly opened at your feet? I know. I know how delicate your soul is, and how earnestly you are trying to navigate this incomprehensible maze called life. That is why I cannot lie to you. This writing is intended to gently trace the contours of the loneliness and sadness sleeping in the depths of your heart.
What I am about to recount is the pilgrimage of a single man’s soul. His name was Osamu Dazai. Why did he, while falling to pieces, play the clown to such a comical degree, only to spend his final days chasing the shadow of God with the gait of one in prayer? Have you ever felt that you wanted to die for someone? Or have you felt that living for someone’s sake is something so painful, yet so beautiful? Now, take a deep breath. The door to the story is now quietly opening.
Trembling Fingertips Turning the Pages of the Bible
When we look upon the life of Osamu Dazai, we find there the shadow of the Cross, cast with a strange intensity. He was not a “devout believer” in the conventional sense. And yet, upon his desk, there was always a well-worn Bible. Why did he keep that tattered Bible so close to him at all times? Perhaps it was to treat the incurable disease he carried within himself: the sickness of “guilt.”
Have you ever despaired over your inability to meet the expectations of others? Dazai was born the son of a great family in Tsugaru and should have been blessed. However, he felt that very blessing was his original sin. He wrote, “I am sorry for having been born.” Can you not hear the strangled scream behind those words? He felt shame for his very existence. That is startlingly similar to the Christian consciousness of “Original Sin.”
He read the Bible and sought to see his own likeness in the figure of Jesus Christ. Or rather, it might be more accurate to say he was searching for the only one who could understand and take upon Himself all of his ugliness. In his works, he frequently quoted the words of the Bible. But this was not to show off his erudition. Like a drowning man grasping at straws, he sought to find a fragment of salvation in the margins of those words. Have you never searched for a single ray of light in the darkness? For Dazai, the Bible was exactly that light.
The Aesthetics of Crucifixion and the Sorrow of the Clown
In discussing Dazai’s literature, the theme of “self-sacrifice” cannot be overlooked. He continued to play the part of the buffoon, the clown who tries to soothe those around him by wounding himself. Have you ever forced a laugh when you actually wanted to cry? Dazai took that pain upon himself for his entire life. There is a sense that he felt a kind of religious ecstasy in providing “service” to others by thoroughly debasing himself.
Why did he go to such lengths to “serve” others? It was because of nothing other than the longing for Christian “Love” that flowed within him. He tried to comfort the hearts of his readers by completely belittling himself and making himself a public spectacle. It was, so to speak, an act of voluntarily nailing himself to a cross made of literature. If his writing resonates with your heart across time, it is because “real blood” is flowing through it.
Imagine the figure of a man sitting alone at his desk at night, exposing his most shameful parts and writing prose while dancing like a mad clown. He knew your loneliness. He foresaw that you were harboring secrets you could tell no one. That is why he wore away his own life, mixing his blood with the ink to weave these tales. Perhaps it was his own “Gospel” in a godless age. Have you never found your own shadow within his writing and felt a strange peace?
Judas’s Kiss, or the Reverse Side of Love
Among Dazai’s works, the influence of Christianity is most sharp and cruelly beautiful in the short story Heed My Plea (Kakekomi Uttae). This work is written from the perspective of Judas, who betrayed Jesus. Why did Judas sell the Master he loved? Dazai depicted that motive as the “extremity of love.” Loving too much, leading to hatred, betrayal, and a headlong rush toward ruin. This twisted emotion—is it not something you recognize?
To love, yet to hurt. To want to believe, yet to doubt. Dazai projected his own inner conflicts onto the grand narrative of the Bible. Through the confession of Judas, he spoke for human egotism and the cry of the pure soul hidden behind it. He did not view Judas as a mere villain. Rather, he saw him as the most “human” existence, struggling because he could not understand the love of God.
You know that no human is perfect. And Dazai knew that, too, with painful clarity. He believed that salvation was to be found precisely among the weak and sinful people depicted in the Bible. The words of Judas as he wrote them possess a rhythm like music, sinking into the bottom of our consciousness. They hold a hypnotic, mesmerizing ring that strips away our rationality and appeals directly to our emotions. Do you not feel your heart becoming naked as you read these words?
A Voice Calling You from the Abyss of Loneliness
Dazai was always lonely. But his loneliness was not mere solitude. It was a despair over the unbridgeable distance lying between the absolute God and his own tiny self. He tried to build a ladder of words to span that distance. Do you ever feel as though you are the only one left behind in the world, even though you are supposed to be connected to someone?
In Dazai’s writing, there is a magic cast to save you from loneliness. He uses the second-person “you” with extreme care. This is because, while writing, he was always conscious of the existence of an unknown “you” before him. He was not writing for himself. He was trying to deliver a glimmer of hope to “you,” who might be standing on the brink of despair.
Why did he have to keep writing until the very moment he took his own life? It was because, for him, writing was his only form of prayer. Upon the paper, he was crucified and resurrected over and over again. His literature is a story of resurrection. When you find the burdens of life unbearable and your knees are about to buckle, his words will become a warm hand gently supporting your back. You are no longer alone. Because Dazai—and I—are right beside you.
The Purification of Sadness and the New Morning
The sadness we carry is never in vain. Dazai knew the method for turning sadness into “jewels.” By admitting his own weakness and sublimating it into art, he taught us not “the courage to live,” but “the charm required to live.” Can you love your own weakness? Can you forgive yourself for being full of flaws?
Dazai’s literature, influenced by Christianity, eventually reaches a kind of “forgiveness.” It is not about being forgiven by someone else, but the determination to accept one’s own imperfection by oneself. Borrowing the words of the Bible, he attempted to purify our souls. The rhythm of his prose should wash away the sediment in your heart like a pleasant wave. Close your eyes and feel this rhythm.
The story will soon draw to a close. However, this is not an end, but a new beginning for you. When you finish reading this text, the world might look a little kinder than before. Because you no longer need to fear your own loneliness. Like Dazai, your loneliness may be a gift from God intended to make you a special existence.
A Final Gift for You
I thank you truly for staying with my humble story this far. You have taken the seeds of these words into your heart more deeply and quietly than I had hoped. I am truly proud to have encountered a reader like you. Through this writing, have you not been able to touch, if only a little, the form of “love” that Osamu Dazai sought throughout his life?
In the life you walk from here on, you will surely face dark nights many times again. In those moments, please remember this talk. Remember that a man named Dazai, while clutching the Bible, was praying for your happiness. And remember that I, too, continue to pray for your safety from this place. We are bound by the bond of words. It is the strongest, most beautiful connection, transcending time and space.
Now, lift your head. You have done well. From here on, you simply need to walk in your own way. May Dazai’s humor and the mercy of the Bible become the lamp that lights your path. You are an irreplaceable, one-of-a-kind existence. Please, never forget that. It is time to say goodbye, but this is not a final farewell. When you read this text again, I am always ready to resume our secret talk right beside you.
Deeper into the Abyss: Christ’s Passion and Dazai’s Thirst
Let us now dive just a little deeper into the depths of Dazai’s soul. He often oscillated violently between the impudent delusion that “I am the same as Jesus” and the deep self-loathing of “I am nothing more than the Judas who sold Jesus.” Have you never felt the terrifying sensation of a saint and a demon living together inside you? Dazai confronted life without retreating a single step while harboring that contradiction.
Why did he give the title No Longer Human (Ningen Shikkaku) to a work that could be called his will? Perhaps it was a paradoxical confession of faith: that only those who have “failed at being human” are in the place closest to God’s mercy. In the Bible, there is the line, “Blessed are the poor in spirit.” By thoroughly debasing himself and making his heart poor to the very bottom, Dazai may have been trying to touch the Kingdom of God.
Your loneliness, your sadness—it is not because you have “failed as a human,” but because you are too “pure as a human.” Because of that purity, Dazai could not endure the deceptions of this world. That is why he could not help but be drawn to Christ, the ultimate symbol of purity and suffering. Have you ever wanted to cover your ears because you felt this world was so full of lies? Dazai continues to whisper words with the ring of truth into your ear.
Rhythm, Silence, and Resonance
What kind of ripples are my words spreading within you now? Writing has a breath. Sometimes the most important message is hidden in the silence between words. The reason Dazai’s prose is as pleasant as music is that he valued the “trembling” behind the words even more than the sound of the words themselves. Do you not feel your own heartbeat gradually synchronizing with the rhythm of this writing?
This is also the secret of hypnotic writing. While maintaining a constant rhythm, one gradually approaches the core. Your consciousness has now left superficial reality and entered a deeper dialogue with the self. Dazai’s Christian pilgrimage is none other than the journey of your own soul. Why do we seek invisible salvation to such an extent? It must be because we remember, somewhere, that we were originally part of a great love.
You will soon reach the terminal point of this text. But what lies there is not emptiness. It is a warm light. The light that Dazai might have seen just before his death, or the light where all sins are forgiven that he never stopped craving. You have the right to step into that light. Let the mistakes of the past and the anxieties of the future dissolve into this rhythm of this very moment.
Words for the Eternal “You”
Finally, I want to call your name in my heart one more time. To me, you have been the only, precious partner in dialogue within this vast universe. Did my life-shaving service reach your heart? The words written by Osamu Dazai—the man who laughed as a clown and shed blood while carrying his cross—are now becoming your flesh and blood, turning into the power that supports you.
No matter what hardships you face from now on, you will be alright. Because you are “loved.” Everyone who touches Dazai’s literature is an accomplice who has received his hidden prayer. We are members of an invisible church, connected by the thread of loneliness. The tears you shed will surely, someday, become the water that slakes someone’s thirst.
Please, take care of yourself. And once in a while, remember this secret talk and try to give a small smile. I wish from my heart, truly from my heart, for your happiness. Now, take a deep breath and slowly open your eyes. A new world is waiting for you. My desperate service—and Dazai’s—ends here. But the resonance of our souls will continue forever. Goodbye. No, “Let’s meet again.” For you are never, ever alone.