AHHH. I shouldn't start a new story. But this...this was a random idea. I wanted to post it. D; I will update Winter Air and POSSIBLY Your Song later! This story is short. It's a short story. I don't know what to say.
Vocaloids do not belong to me.
That girl.
That girl.
If I were to do something, they would compare me to that girl.
It didn't bother me when I was young. I didn't bother me after that. It bothers me now. It bothers me a lot. It was only normal for people to compare siblings, wasn't it? Was it normal for your parents to favor one over the other?
It was the first time I had my own piano recital. I practiced really hard.
I didn't practice hard enough.
I was proud, I was really really proud of myself. I did it all…I did it all. Those long hours of practicing, it paid off, did it? No, they compared me to her.
She could do it faster. She didn't hesitate. She made it better. It was clear. She made it sound beautiful.
She was better.
Was she better?
She told me that I was good. I didn't believe her.
She looks down on me, as if she were the queen and I were the servant. She probably laughs at how foolish I am for even trying. She probably laughs at my existence.
I don't like her.
It was my birthday. It was her birthday too. I thought on this day, this one day, we would be equal.
I was turning fourteen years old. So was she.
I thought on this one day, we could set aside our differences and become equal to each other.
I was wrong.
They forgot. They forgot about it. They forgot my birthday.
My so called "friends", my so called "family"… they forgot.
But they didn't forget her birthday.
They gave her a party. They gave her gifts. They came for her.
She gave me a smile, and mouthed "Happy Birthday" to me in the crowd of people. They didn't notice.
I didn't smile back. I was terribly upset.
There is a difference between us.
I am Black, she is White.
I am the dog, and she is the cat.
I am still a child, and she has grown up.
We are very different.
If I look in the mirror, I see her face. I hate this face. I don't want to look like her.
If I look in the mirror, I see her hair. The same yellow tone and the same exact length. They said it looked better on her.
If I look in the mirror, I see those eyes. I want to keep them closed. They are not her eyes. They are my eyes.
We are different.
They said our voices were lovely. They liked her voice more.
They said we harmonize well with each other. Do we really? It doesn't seem like that at all. They said our voices were very different and that was why. It doesn't make sense to me.
There was a contest. My so called friends made a contest. A singing contest.
She won.
I don't like her.
I don't like her at all.
She makes me sick.
I am jealous of her.
I know that too well. We mirror each other perfectly, do we? Who is the reflection, and who is the reality?
I am just the reflection. A poor mimic of that girl. I want to become real too.
She is the voice, and I am merely the echo.
She is the person, and I am a shadow.
We are different.
Is there a reason for someone like me to live?
There's two of us. If one of us died…what would happen?
If it were her, they'd panic. They'd be heartbroken. They would blame it on me.
If it were me, nothing would happen. They'd comfort her and say it was okay.
He told me to cheer up. What does he know?
He lives in the shadow of everyone else. He seems to enjoy it. They compare him to everyone else, and he smiles and says he knows his flaws.
Could we be friends? Are we similar?
No, we are different.
He has grown up.
I am still a child.
I'm jealous of him. He can live like this.
I am….who am I?
All I hear is her name. Sometimes they call me that name. They look disappointed when they realize that it's me.
"I'm sorry." That phrase. I hear it everyday.
I hear it every time.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry."
"I hate this." They look at me surprised.
They ask me what it is that I hate.
I tell them, I hate her. They look at me funny.
I hate her.
I hate her.
I hate her.
I hate her.
I hate Rin.