Nightmares: Kokichi

My Nightmare

My room was the one place where I felt I could be in control. Not fully in control as my mind does have some special things that make it difficult for me to be in complete control of this body.

It was still before the morning announcement and I noticed something off about the room.

There was a notebook placed on my bed. On top of all the papers and other nonsense that was sprawled upon my bed, there was a notebook neatly placed on the top. As a cherry on top of a Sunday- but the Sunday looks like a pile of trash and the cherry is the one thing that looks put together on the whole pile.

What the hell? Now that I think about it, that notebook wasn't there before. It isn't a part of my files. It isn't a part of my plans. And it definitely isn't a journal of mine...because let me be honest here.

How can someone put their thoughts on paper and not expect them to be found out by someone sooner or later?

Curiosity drew me closer to the notebook. I have always been a curious person, but sometimes to a fault.

A black checkered pattern covered the front and back cover, but the white binding was what held it all together. The notebook didn't have a title. It just had the numbers "310310303 033 5503" along the white binding on the edge.

This made the numbers stand out, but what I felt when I looked over them was a twinge of regret and nostalgia. The numbers were in my handwriting, but I had no recollection of writing these specific numbers on this specific notebook.

Dread came over my shoulders. Is this possibly another motive Monokuma is planning? If so, why is it a notebook that is vaguely familiar to me? Is it from before? Wait I get it now. This must be from before I was put into this situation...and I guess that whatever is written in this notebook will give me some reason to hide this information.

Knowing this the right decision would be to look inside. Maybe. Possibly...it's better to know than to just have knowledge of the information.

Sighing to myself I took the notebook and opened the cover. The writing on the cover was the first thing my eyes were drawn to. "Maybe my brain is something you don't want to understand. No one in their right mind should cause I am not someone for the faint of heart to understand."

Confused by the words I looked over the notebook again. By feeling the pages in my hand I could tell this notebook must have been full of writing. I assume this is a journal of some kind...maybe more accurately a diary.

But why would I write a diary? Why would I document my thoughts? Was I really this stupid before the game?

I sighed to myself and decided it would be best to look over the notebook to understand better what exactly this was and why it was given to me specifically.

...

" ???

People in this world are either in need of your help or cause you to need help some someone. People like to fuck with you all the time and sometimes even cause you to want to die just to end all the pointless and shitty stuff going on in your own head. People always tell you they are sorry. Sorry? This always ends up making you angrier at their words and at everything around you. You're so lonely.

???

Everybody who tells you that no one would ever love you for anything other than your body. They all ask you why you have such low self-esteem and that makes you want to scream at them. Maybe the blood that your scream will cause will make them understand. Make them understand that it is all because of all the people who have caused you pain. But you just have to stay silent. Because you know what they are going to say. You are over exaggerating, you are a drama queen, you are a loser maybe that's why you are so depressed. You aren't hurting. Everyone else is hurting and you are just hurting for attention.