It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Dazai to have depressive episodes…

Dazai laid on his futon, dissociating as he watched the popcorn ceiling above him. He was tired and hadn’t left his bed in a while…

His messy hair had grown greasy and his skin pale. He was wearing the same clothes from last week and his hygiene had plummeted. His room looked like an equal disaster.

He needed help…but he had no motivation to ask for any. So he was left to bed rot and wallow in his deep thoughts…