┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ CARAMEL CANDiD ❤︎Four-piece girl band from the land of sweets❤︎ Vo. / Gt. OTO Gt. SAYA Ba. MABO Dr. MOKO Lyrics and composition: OTO Arrangement: CARAMEL CANDiD ✉️[email protected] Instagram @cara_can_i Twitter @CARA_CAN_i Direction & Cinematography MIMO Shinohara @valentine_____x (Instagram) 莎 @scha90s (Instagram) Cast member Sae Kunorisa @knori__ (Instagram) Kamaguchi Keita @kamagoo (Instagram) Chiba Sakina @sakina.chiba (Instagram) special thanks to narumi koiwa hamanaka ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ December 26, 2021 Diary (for adults) The Christmas presents from Santa Claus that have been delivered to my bedside for 18 years without interruption have not arrived this year. This is the first year since I moved to Tokyo, and the first Christmas without my roommate. I found out that Santa Claus does not exist in this world when I was in the fifth grade of elementary school. Even though a boy in my class at elementary school proudly said, "Santa doesn't really exist, don't you know?", I never doubted that he existed until the fifth grade. When I was in elementary school, I used to look forward to Santa Claus coming, sticking directions to my room on the doors of all my rooms about a week before he came. "Maybe Santa will be visiting various houses and want to go to the bathroom." With that thought in mind, I wrote directions on the bathroom door in clumsy handwriting saying, "This is the bathroom! Please use it." "Maybe Santa will be hungry because he's traveling all over the world." My parents told me that, so every year I put milk and cookies in front of my room. There were nights when I was worried that I wouldn't get a present because the thought of leaving milk outside the refrigerator would spoil and make Santa sick ran through my head, and as a result I stayed up late at night. Even if I stayed up late at night, Santa Claus would never come while I was awake. But every morning when I woke up, the long-awaited present was placed next to my pillow, along with a letter written in unreadable English in cursive and a message in Japanese that was probably a translation of the English. When I went outside my room, I found an empty glass that should have had milk in it, a cookie wrapper, and a message saying, "It was delicious, thank you Otoha-chan." Both of my parents went to bed earlier than me on Christmas night, and they called me Otoha, so when I saw the message written with the honorific "chan," I was reminded that Santa Claus really does exist. Above all, when I was in elementary school, I thought that only Santa Claus could write cursive. I think the reason I wasn't shocked on the day I found out that Santa Claus didn't exist was because my parents didn't tell me the truth, and they watched over me with a smile and did their best to make it happen until I found out the truth. Even though I knew the true identity of Santa Claus, I had a younger brother and sister who were also waiting for Santa Claus. It was heartwarming and happy to see my brother and sister writing letters to Santa Claus a month before Christmas, writing directions to their rooms on the walls of the house, preparing cookies and milk, and looking forward to Christmas, just like I did when I was young. Of course, I never tell them the truth about Santa Claus. Seeing how happy they were preparing, I didn't want to reveal anything. When my father and mother, who were preparing presents, asked me to put my brother and sister to bed, who were eagerly waiting for presents, I felt happy because I felt like I had become a part of Santa Claus. My sister is now in the fifth grade of elementary school. Maybe she already knows the true identity of Santa Claus. Soon there will be no more directions posted on the walls, and no more cookies and milk. But my parents will probably prepare presents for my brother and sister by their pillows, just like they did for me before I left home. Now that I'm a university student living alone, I'm no longer told to go to bed early even if I stay up until 2am in a pitch black room. I'm sure I no longer have the same radiance of hope for the future as I did back then, but I still believe that I have a little bit of radiance, and I struggle every day. In a pitch black room, dry from the heater, the only light is from my smartphone, which reflects the dazzling daily lives of others and pierces my heart. Unable to bear the dazzle, I turn off the light, but then I have a nightmare. Still, like back then, I no longer wake up in the middle of the night, suddenly become scared of the pitch black darkness and run down the hallway to get to my mother, or wake up my father because I have a nightmare. At times like these, I pray to Baku. "Please eat all my nightmares." . People who have just become adults seem to be cursed by Christmas, with thoughts of "Christmas alone," "people who make a fus