Work Text:
In the bustling city of Yokohama, there lived a young man named Dazai who often questioned the existence of life. His thoughts were like thunder, constant and overwhelming, leading him to seek solace in the written word. To channel his existential musings, Dazai wrote a novel titled "The Precept of Life," a profound exploration of the 'ideal life.'
Within the pages of his book, Dazai often quoted a passage that encapsulated his philosophical struggle:
"The infinity of existence. The vicious, cursed circle of life. People are born, live, and die. For what purpose? Why have we persisted for so many years in this painful mania for survival? What and whom do we want to prove? My life doesn't matter. Neither does yours. Neither do billions of people around the world. We think we can change the world for the better. How desperate do you have to be to think that you can change anything in this world devoid of empathy and warmth. No life is important. Human life has no value. Nothing will change whether someone is born or not. We will all end up a few feet under the ground or ashes in a fancy box that our loved ones will put on their elegant mantelpiece and fondly remember what good people we were, even though we were not. Tell me, why were we born? Why do we live? Why do we die?”
His thoughts were indeed right, he believed. What was the point of living? What is the point of this existence we call life? We wake up, we eat, and we sleep. Is this really the existence of this so-called life?
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One rainy afternoon, Dazai sat by his apartment window, staring out at the bustling streets of Yokohama. The rain drummed a steady rhythm against the glass, mirroring the chaotic yet monotonous patterns of life below.
His friend, Atsushi, stopped by to check on him. Atsushi, with his kind eyes and gentle demeanour, was often a foil to Dazai's darker thoughts.
"Dazai, you haven't been out much lately," Atsushi said, concern lacing his voice. "Is everything okay?"
Dazai gave a small, wry smile. "I'm fine, Atsushi. Just... contemplating life, as usual."
Atsushi sighed, taking a seat across from him. "You always say that, but it doesn't seem like you're finding any answers. Have you thought about talking to someone about it?"
"Talking won't change the nature of existence," Dazai replied, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "It's all just so... meaningless."
Atsushi leaned forward, his eyes earnest. "Maybe it's not about finding answers. Maybe it's about finding meaning in the little things, the connections we make, the moments we share. Life might seem meaningless if you look at it from a distance, but up close, it can be beautiful."
Dazai stared at Atsushi, pondering his words. "You always see the light in things, don't you?"
Atsushi shrugged. "I try. It's the only way to keep going sometimes."
For a moment, silence enveloped them, save for the rain's steady patter. Dazai turned his gaze back to the window, a flicker of something indefinable crossing his face.
"Maybe you're right," he said softly. "Maybe it's the little things that matter."
As Atsushi left, Dazai returned to his manuscript, his mind swirling with new thoughts. Perhaps there was more to life than he had allowed himself to see. Perhaps, amidst the existential dread, there were moments of beauty worth living for.
In the end, "The Precept of Life" was not just a novel about despair but also a testament to Dazai's struggle with humanity. It was an exploration of the darkness and the light, a journey to understand why, despite everything, people continue to live.