Yume Nikki + Dream Diary prev.

[ ゆめにっき-りてらしかいさく]

You stare blankly at the screen, your eyes carefully trailing the lone pixelated character, mashing the buttons of the defunct controller instinctively. One can only wonder how long you've been doing this; you only know that you have been sitting in this tiny, dimly lit apartment for a long, long time. The decidedly unappetizing aroma of old instant ramen wafts through the room. You don't particularly want to continue playing; even so, you don't stop. You can't. Ever since my Mother cartridge fell apart, you think. You only have NASU left now.

A feeling of numb detachment sits in the pit of your stomach like a newly born black hole and you break out in a cold sweat. When did your parents last call? You wonder for a moment; then, you realize that you stopped paying your phone bill months ago, along with your cable bill, and most distressingly, your internet bill. It is eerily silent. The volume on your antiquated TV is turned to mute-it's late, and your neighbors are sleeping. The frigid winter chill bites relentlessly at your flesh, not unlike a wolf tearing apart its prey; you sold your heater last winter. That feeling inside you does not fade.

Finally, you notice from your small, murky window on the balcony door that the sun is rising, and you decide it's time to go to bed yourself. Your legs tingle painfully as you stand and stumble over to the small, wooden desk a few feet away; on it lays an old lamp, a pile of school books from years ago, and a single journal with a faded purple cover and MADOTSUKI'S DREAM DIARY written on it in wobbly pencil scrawl. For some reason, you smile; you've nearly forgotten your own name. It's been so long since anyone has called you by it.

Madotsuki. That's you.