It's been 23 years since I'm living with the creatures who called themselves Human Beings. I'm holding a childhood photograph you might call it, shows a small girl about the age of ten,surrounded by women( sisters and cousins probably). She stands in checked trouser by the edge of the pond. Her head is tilted a thirty degree angle to the left, her teeths are bared in an ugly smirk. UGLY? You may well questioned the word. The childs smiling face, the more you feel an indescribable, unspeakably horror creeping over you. Look at her tightly clenched fists if you want proof. No human being can smile with his fist doubled like that. It's not a photograph of an human being. It's something different, someone not from this world.

Now, as a grownup I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.Everything passes.That is the one and only thing that I have thought resembled a truth in the society of human beings, where I have dwelled up to now as in a burning hell. I have always shook with fright before human beings. Unable as I was to feel the least particle of confidence in my ability to speak and act like a human being, I kept my solitary agonies locked in my breast. I kept my melancholy and my agitation hidden, careful lest any trance should be left exposed. I feigned an innocent optimism; I gradually perfected myself in the role of the farcical eccentric.

Whenever I met human beings they always asked one question "How's your life going?" I just give them a smile and walked away, because nothing happened in my life, last year nothing happened,The year before nothing happened, and the year before that nothing happened, because mine has been a life of much shame. I can't even guess myself what it must be to live the life of a human being.

I have been sickly ever since I was child and have frequently been confined to bed. How I often as I lay there I used to think what uninspired decoration sheets and pillow cases make.It was not until I was about twenty that they actually served a practical purpose, and this revelation of human dullness stirred dark depression in me. I have never meant what it means to be hungry. I have had not the remotest idea of the nature of the sensation of "hunger". I have never been aware that my stomach was empty. "Why must human beings eat three meals every single day?" what extraordinary solemn faces they all make as they eat! It seems to be some kind of ritual. Three timed everyday at the regulated the family gathered in the gloomy room.Sometimes I went so far to think in such terms. I still have no understanding what makes human beings tick.

My concept of happiness seemed to be completely at variance with that of everyone else was so great, at to make me toss sleeplessly and groan at night after night in my bed. It drove me indeed to the brink of lunacy. I wonder If I have actually been happy.Though I have always made it my practice to be pleasant to everybody, I have not once actually experienced friendship.I have frantically played the clown in order to disentangle myself from these painful relationships, only to wear myself out as a result. I know that I am liked by other people, but I seem to be deficient in the faculty to love others.(I should add that I have very strong doubts as to whether even human beings really possess this faculty.)

It was hardly to be expected that someone like myself could ever develop any close friends-besides, I lacked even the ability to pay visits. The front door of another person's house terrified me more than the gate of Inferno in the Divine Comedy, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I really felt I could detect within the door the presence of a horrible dragon-like monster writhing there with a dank, raw smell.After repeated wounds and intimidations at the hands of the apparitions called human beings, have often come to believe in phantasms-I plainly saw monsters in broad daylight, in the midst of nature. And I did not fob people off with clowning; I did my best to depict these monsters just as they had appeared.

Mother, recently I have discovered the one way in which human beings differ completely from other animals. Man has, I know, language, knowledge, principles, and social order, but don't all the other animals have them too, granted the difference of degree? Perhaps the animals even have religions. Man boasts of being the lord of all creation, but it would seem as if essentially he does not differ in the least from other animals. But, Mother, there was one way I thought of. Perhaps you won't understand. It's a faculty absolutely unique to man - having secrets. Can you see what I mean?

This was how I happening to invent my clowning.It was the last quest for love, I was to direct human beings. Although i had a mortal dread as human beings i seemed quite unable to renounce their society. I managed to maintain on the surface a smile which never deserted my lips; this was the accommodation i offer to others, a most precarious achievement performed by me only at the cost of excruciating efforts within.

I finally realised that as long as i can make them (human beings) laugh, It doesn't matter how, I'll be all right. If i succeeded in that, the human beings probably won't mind it too much if i remain outside their lives. The one thing i must avoid is becoming offensive in their eyes: I shall be nothing, the wind, the sky.

Since childhood I've been taught that I have been corrupted. I always smiled in weakness. If i had formed the habit of telling the truth about human beings true nature, about the monsters i see everyday roaming on streets called human beings, that i could not fully understand even my own parents. To appeal for help to any human being but i could not expect nothing from that expedient. I wonder if in the end I would not be argued in the silence by someone with good grace in the world, by the excuse of which the world approved.

It is only too obvious that favouritism inevitably exists: it would have been useless to complain to human beings. So I said nothing of the truth.

In the end I felt I had no choice but to endure whatever came my way and go on playing clown. I am convinced that human life is filled with many pure, happy serene examples of insincerity, truly splendid of their kind-of people deceiving one another without (strangely enough) any wounds being inflicted, of people who seem unaware even that they are deceiving one another.But I have no special interest in instances of mutual deception. I myself spent my whole day long deceiving human beings with my clowning. I have not been able to work up much concern over the morality under such name as "righteousness". I find it difficult to understand the kind of human beings who lives, or who is sure he can lives, purely, happily, serenely by engaged in deceit. Human beings never did teach me that abstruse secret. I had only known that one thing i should never have had to dread human beings so, nor should i open myself to human life, nor tasted such torments of hell everyday. In short, I believe that the reason why i did not tell anyone about the truth that I am not human being, was that the human beings around me had rigorously sealed me off from the world of trust or distrust. Even my parents at times displayed attitudes which were hard for me to understand.