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A knock is heard at the entrance. It rings out through the shitty apartment more than usual. In all fairness, though probably unfair for me to judge anything at all in this state of mind, the somehow increased audio quality of reality couldn’t seem to help itself when it comes to making innocent everyday happenings become nothing but nuisances. Damn, already lost in my thoughts before I even finished stumbling into the door. I clutch my head with a hand I don’t remember being so very pale, almost purple, agonizing slow in twisting the knob, if as I might be reprimanded by the entirety of society should something I can’t say I know what I’m supposed to be avoiding occur. Upon cracking open the entrance, my limbs seem to go numb, all pressure going towards the teeth I wasn’t aware of having clenched.
“Hey, Dazai. What’s the matter? You sounded a bit off on the phone, something about wishing we drink together more often, apologizing like you were the one to make that decision.”
That’s Odasaku, of course he had to go ahead on being considerate tonight, what luck I have. Couldn’t have been too busy or hung up on me, now I’ve gone and let him create a whole ordeal. He’s staring at my face. I almost forgot to stare back, except for when he was speaking and I zoned out thinking of something I already can’t remember, that’s the only time when my gaze doesn’t drift off back to that flimsy door I spontaneously have grown to hate with the all the might my half- no, third of my body that isn’t fully disconnected from reality can summon, nowhere near enough to see my fantasies of slamming into it and kicking the rest of the wood down to fruition.
“Seeing as you told me that, rather than complaining over the phone about another failure to die with this week’s drug of choice, I’m guessing you only failed to use recreationally this time. Good job, terrible coping mechanisms are a step up from refusing to cope at all, because no one else is buying your idea of dying being the ultimate from of coping.” His monotone voice doesn’t betray any hint of pity, or any other unsightly emotion. Still deadpan as always, now clapping lightly as he gives a faint cheering noise.
I can’t help but imagine a couple lame confetti poppers behind him. Now that would surely complete his look, or rather lack of one. If a stranger passed by, they’d immediately assume he’s deeply embedded in countless layers of sarcasm. But, if I possess nothing else, I’ve been around him far too long to not realize his unchanging tone isn’t a sign of disinterest. That’s just how he is. Fascinating, the type of person you’d say whatever it takes to, just to receive the faintest reaction. I wonder if I could say something along-the-lines of him being a real treasure, is that allowed? Somehow, I feel like said reaction may not actually be worth it after all, growing queasy as I know if I told him such a thing now, he’d end up dismissing me due to the drugs clouding my system, and what seems like my judgement. Enough thinking, the few seconds I gave my brain to run wild in its altered state now over, focusing back into the present as I instinctively generate a deflecting response.
“You’re doing an awful lot of talking at the moment, aren’t you? How’s it feel to be the one filling up all the silence now?” No longer human be damned, my consistency when it comes to instant replies is a whole other ability in its own right. Unfortunately, it’s especially nerve inducing to use when my mind is barely peeking into reality at the moment.
Shit, my preoccupation with anything but what’s actually relevant strikes again. This going to be a problem, unsurprising to neither of us. I chose to lean on the door to relive my dizziness, a pose far more awkward than intended. Picture some idiot glancing around everywhere as he nervously waits for his crush to arrive. I highly —haha get it I used that word but I’m actually high too— doubt the fact I’m pulling my obnoxiously long bangs back as if I believed the gesture would make me look cool, despite my intention simply being to relieve the feeling of hot blood rushing to my face, is most definitely not doing whatever I come off as any favors.
“Your current inability to stand properly, much less think straight, is not something I can ignore.”
Man, already calling me out? Normally, on the rare occasion another person worries about the Dazai they know, it’s unavoidable to end up being a drawn out chore, as I’m forced to chase away their fears with jokes and/or topic changes. Sure, I can tell exactly how much my emotions are being heightened from what I took. How I’m supposed to feel and act have already been rehearsed endlessly, which is why I let the urge take over to act out totally different, in hopes of experiencing something new for once within this worn out dreamy haze.
“O-da-sa-ku~” I let out a genuine giggle I didn’t know I had in me, excited at this potential novelty, the dryness of my throat stinging, though I take care not to let my voice be tainted by it. “Whatchu gonna do about it, hmm?” I accentuated my vowels in the most childish way a nearly grown man is capable of, dawning an exaggerated smug expression, eyes unnaturally narrowed into smiley squints.
It appears even now, my efforts to seem real have simply twisted into another character. Can’t I do anything without adding unnecessary mannerisms? Would it hurt to speak clearly, free from blemishes of doubt as to how best please the recipient of my words, maximizing my potential to be an annoyance for my sake, while still being just barely tolerated. Perhaps, after years of practice, such fabrications may very well be engrained into the core of whatever I am.
Odasaku stares me down, checking for deviations from in my appearance. Once my exterior has been throughly examined by his already striking eyes I see as far bluer than I seem to recall, he closes them, eyelids fluttering as he makes a choice, the sort of thing you can never be sure was the correct action, assuming there is right way of going about it that may be defined.
“I already came here, so why don’t you let me stay the night?”
I damn near fall off that stupid door in disbelief, despite the slab of wood being at a standstill. The emotions fueling my concerning lack of pushback are irrelevant. Whatever, I’m only going along with this so I can finally shut the door and not have to be in its direct presence anymore, I’ll go with that.
“Kay, do whatever you want.” I shrug, instinctively copying him, it now being my turn to close my eyes in contemplation.
I silently beg for any entity out there to relive the pounding in my chest from what should be solely from the drugs coursing through my veins, unrelated to any unease at letting a separate consciousness into my personal quarters, this other man being an already established companion at that. We precede with our spontaneous agreement, running my palm against the cheap stucco walls, attempting not to allow my own increasing void of confidence in this body not tripping over itself to be on such an apparent display. I assume he’d have been at least slightly deterred by the putrid stench from a multitude of trash bags surrounded by countless emptied bottles of sake accumulated over a time period I’ve currently lost a significant portion of my mind to recall. I fear my head was on a tad bit more of a swivel to risk turning to face him as I lead the man into my living room, but the mental image of him wrinkling his nose conjured up sufficient grounds in eliciting a hushed snicker I failed to suppress. It appears a sensation of spinning arrived independently, or perhaps summoned by the mere notion of wishing to avoid it, thankfully now able to permit the sensation to consume me wholly, flopping onto my ratty couch, disappointed I wasn’t granted the privilege to sink into it, due to the astonishingly cheap material.
“You did close that damn door, right?” I glowered at him indignantly, the sort of expression that’d be confused —should he not have been accustomed to my antics— for me accusing him of being the guy who installed it improperly to begin with. Odasaku didn’t humor me with any real answer, though I already knew he hadn’t left it ajar to begin with. Curses, or whatever, I’ve lost the battle with my thoughts, enabled them to indulge in all I deem entirely irrelevant. From now on, until I’ll most likely fuck it up immediately after my pledge, I shall not entertain these tempting tangents. That settled, I genuinely haven’t the foggiest when it pertains to handling this specific circumstance I’ve at last folded and let myself land in. Sighing deeply, nearly obnoxiously, though not a goal of mine for this particular noise, I decide on the most straightforward route, pulling the not so subtle inspiration based my lovely friend’s demeanor.
“Alright, I get you wanna make sure I don’t do nothin’ stupid,” I made sure to put emphasis on the ending syllable, that proclivity towards opposition, regardless of the circumstance, peaking through as I comically sneered. “But what’re we s'posed to do now?” I found myself comfortably giving in to the urge suggesting I draw out the of ending my sentence yet again.
“Nothing that’ll surprise you, so don’t even try to get your hopes up.”
“Oh.” Despite my lack of expectations, a miniature frown wormed its way onto my face as I my gaze fell downward, now unfocused on some miscellaneous ancient stain I never bothered to scrub away out from the rotting floorboards. Better to replace them altogether, not that I ever planned on it, leagues more possibility for the old wood to be stained crimson, dried brown from bleeding out, an actual example of something I’ve planned. A speck of joy passed through me at the notion, the beginnings of a smirk interrupted as Odasaku killed the mood, interjecting while he claimed the left side of my couch yellowed by age.
“I can already tell you’re gonna go on about wanting to die like always. Just give it up for tonight. If you must, at least wait to choose a method when you aren’t on some unholy combination of drugs.”
Suddenly, the foul taste in my mouth became too much to ignore. I swallowed audibly with a grimace I didn’t bother concealing. Yes, that was surely the sole reasoning behind such a reaction. The burden of life itself should be tolerable at the bare minimum with the splendid aid this magnificent concoction of substances provides. I won’t allow otherwise, now not. Please, is a peaceful night in the presence a close companion truly such a blasphemous request? The answer is yes, as my headache syncs with a rising nausea. Such is the classification of discomfort, one unable to be relieved with anything which may work instantly, progressing into a state featuring hardly any connection to this body other than enduring sensations I long to cease along with the rest of my puny yet endlessly miserable existence. Respite is simply out of reach, the choice to sleep in beautifully convenient avoidance dangled before me, if it weren’t for my present company disrupting all possibility of that temporary escape. I don’t care to dwell on the reasoning behind this vigilance, it’s currently useful for nothing besides preventing me from doing more than fluttering my eyelids in place of shutting them completely, my desperate wish to turn off my perception of the world remaining unfulfilled.
“This is gonna sound so nonsensical,”
“So, basically just the usual.”
“Alright, but you get what I mean.”
“Yeah, I always do.”
“Kay, well I actually feel a lil, ah, comforted by this.” I subconsciously attempted to tuck a strand of of hair behind my ear, but the genuine high— and yes I mean quite literally feeling higher than this place of reality, the closest to that heaven I could never believe in while still not having been completely out of this normally so detestable body. At least such a form was not quite as vile to me when not so miserably connected with, now fully departing as I embrace true bliss, laughing with imagined enthusiasm as I somehow gaze straight at him without needing to actually shift my eyes, zooming in on the unassuming man internally.
“You have several issues with drug abuse.”
“Pfft, not that many. But that wasn’t totally it. Y’know, with this incredibly overpowering sensation of losing touch from my physical form, only now can I dare to embrace you fully without my shameful self disgracing us both.”
I shake my head exaggeratedly, —with the feeling of exaggeration at least, as I could hardly feel a thing enough to shock my purely blissful current state— to convey my flowery language as nothing more than another piece of my obnoxious coping strategies.
“With each draw of breath I take it gives me the impression it’ll surely be my last, I imagine my heart jolts the slightest bit more at the thought of dying in your arms, but it somehow feels as though I might regret such an outcome should I be cursed with an afterlife. Thus, I churn out each lingering yet horribly prevalent core sensation burning in the agony of another heave from this pair of bruised and battered lungs, a-“
“Dazai, just quit it already!”
For an instant, the most minuscule of milliseconds, I’d believed most of everything I’ve witnessed and even gone through myself was a blurry illusion. I was back in my father’s study, unable to calculate an appropriate response to a misstep in my not yet perfected facade of a lovable fool. Those contortions in his normally stiff face now indicating anger eased up more abruptly than they appeared, dissipating into confusion and later what I didn’t quite register to be awe in the moment. My own face certainly one of that dreadful child, lost in the first role I learned to play, eyes boasting their remorse, sobbing with the loss of a voice anxiously awaiting forgiveness. Odasaku tentatively cleared his throat, his attempt to reset the mood appreciated in the back of my mind, yet I forgot to fix my outwardly childish behavior, an extra expectant head tilt the final straw which caused me to recognize how I must be appearing. Even so, I was afraid of any sudden readjustment triggering a flood of vomit, overindulgence in cheap booze and cheaper crab to go along with the less acceptable drugs already in my system crawling their way back up my throat. I know it’ll taste similar coming out as it did going in. It always does, only, one can imagine the degree in which the acidic flavor is savored not solely depending upon time since consumption, but now including the relief in such numbness I cannot get ahold of naturally able to block the sensation of my eroding enamel, inflamed gums, and weakened stomach lining.
“…Er, Dazai, I don’t mean you gotta stop talking at all…”
“Duh, it’ll get boring if I can’t talk, silly.” I stuck my tongue out petulantly, an amused exhale escaping me at my own pathetic desperation to be anything but preoccupied with tonight’s serving of nonsense.
“Guess you’ll have to be a bit bored, what a horrible tragedy.”
“Wait, I know! My limbs are already numb, might as well take advantage of it and goof-off in the snow!” I shot up instantly— only to fall sideways into his lap. Right, just had to go and forget I’m unable to retain a clean-streak for literally every addictive substance, not to mention almost every damaging habit.
“You serious? Actually, I dunno why I bother asking, just don’t get fussy once I gotta drag your ass back inside before you get frostbite or die of hypothermia, okay?” He lifted my skinny frame off himself while dragging me into a standing position without offering any recognition of my blunder. I choked up and froze for an instant, confused to assume he’d instead decided to push me off purely as an immediate rejection. Recognizing my previous assertion to be false, I allowed an abundance of internal thanks to pour out from what could supposedly be my soul, once figuring out our friendship still appears wholly intact. To acknowledge his unbothered help would finish unearthing my obvious issues with any sort of human connection, lack of unguarded intimacy, and a whole host of other problems I don’t care to mention, much less admit.
I shuffled back through the cramped rooms, at last arriving at the apartment door. Struggling with my muscle memory, highly impaired for hours by now, I calculated the act of finally meeting the chilly outdoors from exiting my apartment, to entering the elevator, then leaving the lobby and such typical inconsequential gestures, all using up double —if not thrice to quadruple— the average timeframe. My continued cycle of interchanging extreme highs and lows ramping up inertia to a rate scarcely observed in all but the most avid drug abusers, I might be open to engaging in a hypothetical discussion of already experiencing multiple lives and deaths entirely within the damp walls peeling around us in those few minutes.
The frozen grand prize, a slushy dreamscape wonderland of snow throughly intermingling with dirt. Never have those untouched patches of white looked so vibrant under the flickering street lights, I’d nearly caught myself on the brink of proverbial tears, much too dehydrated to physically cry as I slumped against Odasaku feebly while he supported me on the path defile the only bits of innocent snowflake gatherings which remained.
“Wait, this high isn’t consistent enough to intercept every part of my nervous system!” I wanted to rush, but any attempt to hurry the process of accurately crafting miniature snowmen involving hands with this extend of a quiver would surely tip the already unbalanced scales of my humors into something irreversibly pouty to ruin the night further.
“Eek- ah! It’s too cold!! And, on top of that, this street corner reeks of everything wrong with this world!” Clattering of teeth from both our mouths to distract me from the latent nausea growing closer to manifestation as my only meal since yesterday morning spilled out for any unlucky passerby to see, the image of our usually handsome mugs has now been sculpted into hardly remarkable handfuls of frost with identifiable markings originating from discarded plant material of thoughtfully selected suggestions by my honorable companion beside me.
“Lookin’ good, don’t ‘cha think, Dazai?” He snickered at our spontaneous impulse for artistry, crouching down to meet the kneel I took for the most efficient snowman creating posture.
I added the missing details in the form of projectile vomiting profusely strewn across our snowy imitations, shivering at sudden emptiness of my stomach compartment. I noticed a vile sense of regret at knowledge such an unpleasant display could befall me prior to my awareness alerted inordinately behind the required schedule. The surroundings appeared far darker in-proportion to my first couple glances, acid in my throat a faint aftertaste compared to the deep meaninglessness replacing the gap in my stomach.
“Silly me, it’s absolutely absurd to be in this frigid of an atmosphere. Why, I had to of been so affected by the temperature, I’d practically fancied my time to be wasted. As if my time had such great a value to begin with! My, it’s incredible how much I could blame the weather for a plethora of misjudgments!” In what I may label as an outstanding contradiction, I imagined myself a couple years younger, whining in protest from not fulfilling a single other expectation of classic snowing activities.
“You wanna go inside already? Fine by me. Glad you realized how cold it is sooner, rather than threatening frostbite later.” The misty puffs left behind from his breath were enchanting, despite his sentence nothing but a reiteration of a past remark, I exhaled a sheepish laugh just to prove I was endowed with the ability to reproduce majestic clouds of my own.
I outstretched an arm towards Odasaku as if I was the man lending a hand, in place of taking his to be lifted up back onto my feet similarly alike in stability to my mental health. The provably unceremonious journey to my abode another tedious trip, I racked that mushy organ sloshing around my skull for an unsuitable switch in topic to unnerve my good buddy here. Once settling on a sentence picked-out from hundreds of potential future outcomes, factoring loss of motor-function interfering with precise intonation, along with additional numbness from outlying weather conditions, I sighed deeply while searching for the ideal position on the couch to deliver my next dose of timely gibberish.
“I was jerking-off before you came here.”
“I take it you’re joking, or I should really be concerned with the cleanliness of my hand.”
“Nah, I was ‘bouta tell you I was so into it, I started imagining the daily lives of those women. The men were there too —but like I’m not gay, I swear on my life!— I mean they just happened to be there. I was mostly simulating the how those ladies would interact with each other in different situations.”
“Okay, well you gonna tell me it made you nut, or that’s all you wanna say?”
“I was genuinely interested in a non-sexual way, but only in the mere idea of it.”
“Don’t give a damn ‘bout the everyday lives of your average woman?”
“Yup, that’s exactly what I meant! Most definitely not that with all genuine connection severed to those who lead comparatively regular lives, it’s extremely foreign to me, yet I recognize a familiar sense of exclusion, unable to comprehend how people may be satisfied with such mundanity!”
“So just ‘cuz your life feels pointless, it seems unthinkable for anyone else to wanna keep existing in this boring reality. Makes sense, we all have trouble with certain concepts.”
“Damn, can’t even find myself an ability user to switch my struggles for something considered more palatable. Nullifying nullification, it simply isn’t an option.”
“Must suck feelin’ low when you’re high as hell on everything you could grab with those bandaged hands of yours.”
I needn’t confirm or deny, the answer freely given what was ages ago in my chemically induced situation one I called the guy, not very effective in withstanding the urge to say sorry for my birth, much less skip over the notion I waste the precious time of any and all I’ve met from mere disturbing presence alone. I allowed what’s surely a record as longest pause in history for everyone sober, unable to hear the consuming buzz of deafening silence. Snapping out of it, I suggest the most popular orchestral solution.
“Put on some music on!”
“Your wish is my command, apparently.” As he stood up, I instantly put on a huge grin, the smallest glimmer of childlike wonder hidden in my eyes.
The music itself wasn’t especially memorable, the lyrics not particularly interesting, but typically a merely edible tone salad was now a world-renowned restaurant of instruments, each flavor truly in perfect harmony. Of course, if one was stuck-up as to objectively strutinze the arrangement and rythm, the overcooked bass and underseasoned notes are bound to irritate your palate. But when imagining the painstaking effort to bake in such delectable vocals, especially knowing the chef had only recently begun their apprenticeship, one’s entrée becomes significantly easier to digest. Only, I at last yet again have been graced with the secret ingredient of marijuana, the most expensive yet exquisite, exclusive extremely enriched sauce available. The enchanting melodies pouring into me, this dish has transformed entirely, now an extraordinary experience enhanced to the brim in its excellent essence, a delicacy beyond comparative examination examples. My, what a fun game that was!
Now that the shitty music has been set, a shitty topic brung up seriously to a friend is bound to slip out my reeking mouth.
“Hey, Odasaku?” Despite the sandpaper sensation plastered throughout my defenseless tongue, the tone of my voice sounded moisten with tears. Shame, my discolored sclera couldn’t be eased, not a drop fell.
“Yes, Dazai?” Naturally, the man detected a peculiar shift in pitch, his tone dropping tentatively in return.
“It’s been nice knowing you, really. This year hasn’t been enjoyable on any grand scale, but in the days since I fully recovered from the wounds inflicted upon me you mended as so you carefully nursed me back to health, we’ve created more pleasant memories I never imagined I may hold closely before my decided end.”
“Could’ve sworn I told you shut up about that tonight, didn’t I?”
“I don’t mean now, or even a few months from now. But eventually, I need to give in.”
“Nothing like that needs to happen, it’s ultimately your choice alone. You’ll be an adult by then, able to choose if you’ll still go through with it.”
“Hardly a choice when I peer at the other option. Life inevitably brings floods of pain, even in the most simple of sunny days. Suicide is the one thing I may be able to have without aching. Even so, I just really wanted to offer a real thanks for everything, while I still can. Not only because I won’t be here for years to come, but my high totally demolishing all ideas of embearessment.”
“Y’know, it’s not like you’d be able to recall telling me that in the morning either way.”
“Me forgetting it doesn’t matter, it’s you remembering it!”
We chuckled in unison, since nothing else could be said. Those light, almost carefree smiles not unlike countless others in those couple years, the indication I was clearly a hell of a lot more under-the-influence not an outlier. Humor wearing me out more than I knew, a yawn was due to be let out accidentally. I lacked the usually unshakable prickling sensation which would’ve spread throughout when I eased my body to lay on his shoulder. This was an accident in its own right, but the gap between my consciousness and physical sensations had already been sufficiently widened to prevent me from adjusting my position without revealing obvious discomfort at the mere suggestion of intimacy in any form. No matter the undefined sort of friendship we shared due to the nature of our first encounter, along with the continuous underaged drinking he watched me take part in, it was a celebratory occasion for prolonged contact not triggering a familiar queasiness while my limbs stiffened to the point of aching. As a deceptively restful conclusion to the night, it was an ache smoothly pulled aside by the steady grips of sleep I so luckily enjoy a fraction of the amount crave it. Despite my closing thoughts being ones of the laborious awaking I’ll surely be greeted by mercy of this disintegrating couch, each sore spot accounted in tenfold, I unabashedly smirked when noticing Odasaku slipping into sleep in his own right alongside myself.