The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

me. I suppose that everyone, faced with my clarity,
feels the urge to betray. There can be no greater
victory for betrayal than to betray such clarity.
Probably all the people who are not loved by me are
confident that they are so loved. The ones who are
loved by me will probably guard a beautiful silence.
The whole world will wish my death; and, each
trying to outdo the others, seek to prevent it.
My purity will presently wander beyond the horizon
to that invisible realm. Probably at the end of
unbearable pain I shall seek to become a god. The
pain! I will know all of it, the pain of absolute silence,
of a world of nothing at all. I will crouch trembling in a
corner, like a sick dog. And the happy ones will sing
songs around me.
There is no medicine for it. No hospital. It will be
written in tiny gold letters, somewhere in the history of
the race: that I was evil.
It would have presented no difficulty at all to go
walking arm-in-arm with Nagisa where I had promised
to meet Momoko. But I did not wish so hasty a
solution, nor did I wish to see Nagisa stupidly
intoxicated with victory.
I vow it: that when I am twenty I will cast Father into
hell. I must start making plans.