Reality

Dead. Just dead inside, as Haruki begrudgingly opened his soulless, abyss-full eyes, he was greeted by a hellhole. Yes, a hellhole. His miserable prison, within mountains upon mountains of trash lying all around him, each laced with a stomach-churning miasma, He looked around groggily and realised he was in the same place he had almost always been—his room. "How long have I been sleeping?" he murmured. As he attempted to wearily check his alarm, the clock, just as dull as the atmosphere, was marked with the number 5:00 a.m. "5 hours, huh, that's a new record," he scoffed lazily, dragging his feeble body out of the bedroom, and began to move towards the door, remembering that he had to check his mail for today. Although still terribly tired, he left at a very slow pace, stopping every now and again to catch a short breather. "I didn't realise I was this unhealthy," he groaned.

After a while, he finally reached the front door, the place where he keeps all his mail. It was only about five, but nonetheless, his face suddenly lit up with a drop of hope. "Maybe," he pondered, "just maybe it could be him." With anticipation, he took the letter, grabbing it tighter. "Please..." he gulped, reading the letter word for word, "blah blah blah. This is addressed to..." He hurriedly read the words on the front, quickly losing patience. He opened the mail only to be greeted by bills. Just bills. His eyes clouded with disappointment as he grabbed the next letter, hoping for something different, but it was just the same bill. He then opened another, and another, and another in desperate search of a message, a hint, perhaps even double-reading to ensure he hadn't missed anything, but it was all in vain. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"Ha..." Haruki snickered "Hahahahaha" as he began to laugh, each second worse than the last, like a sick hyena. "Hah ha ha, I-i knew it; I just knew it!" He marvelled. "I mean, why the hell. would he?" he asked. "I haven't seen him in 5 years, 5 f***ing years!" Haruki's distorted show proceeded to go on for a few minutes before slowly fading and soon transitioning into a blaze of rage, tearing up the every single letters he so tightly held in his hands before quickly starting to toss anything in close proximity to him, each throw degrading the already filthy environment around him. "WHAT'S THE F***KING POINT?" He yelled as he threw the nearest thing at a picture frame, which fell to the solid ground quickly. He regained consciousness after being blinded by fury and dashed to the image. "No! "What did I do?!" He grumbled as he attempted to put the broken glass that had strewn across the floor back together. "This was the only picture I had of him," he wailed quietly, sobbing over the devastation he had unintentionally created."I guess this... This must be my cruel reality"