Author's note: Well, hello! I hope this story is good enough. My first one here, and you know, first impressions are important!

Mama said I was different.

Mama said life was going to be hard for me.

Mama said I was going to have to suck it up and live through the pain.

Mama said she'd always love me, though,

Damn. I miss Mama.

Well, she's in jail for something she didn't do.

I think they're going to kill her. That's….That's too bad.

I don't know, I just don't get very emotional, even if it's someone I love.

I've got my doubles to feel stuff like that for me.

Of course, I don't love many people. Just Mama and my twin brother Piko. But Piko happens to be dead- He was a stillborn. And I don't give a fuck where my father is. He didn't want anything to do with Piko and I, so he took off before we were born.

I live in an old apartment with Piko. It's really monochrome. Oh, yeah, I can see Piko. I can see things. I guess the correct term is "mentally ill."

But "fucked up" works too.

Anyway, you know what I said earlier about my doubles? They're basically pieces of me. The 4 of them showed up around the time Mama went away and I moved out here to the city, when I was, what, like, 18? So about 3 years ago.

Maybe my emotions got pissed that they weren't being used too much, so they, like, turned into humans and just walked out of me. Or my subconscious mind created them to fill the void that Mama left. I think the latter works better.

But they look just like me. It's hard to tell them apart. And they're a pain in the ass sometimes. But it's okay, because they wouldn't be here if I hadn't needed them. Do you think if I didn't use my emotions, they'd shrivel up and vanish? That'd be weird. Oops, I'm sorry. I'm way off topic.

I get this dream. I've had it every night since Mama left. There's this big tower, just steps and steps and steps. And an unbearable urge to climb. Do I know what's up there? Nope. I just climb. My doubles are there, along with an of people I've met in my life.

My elementary school shrink.

Papa, from the pictures in the attic from when Mama and him were together.

Mama.

Piko.

My one and only friend-well, former friend: she committed suicide- Rin Kagamine.

Gumi Megpoid and Meiko Sakine, the two girls who took pleasure in ridiculing me.

They all just stand there on the steps, their heads held high, eyes unblinking, silouhettes wavering slightly like a hologram.

I walk through them. They aren't real.
There's other things too. A telephone on a table is a common appearance. The telephone works, too, if I wanted to hear a montage of chaotic voices screaming insults, slurs, shouts of pain, screams of pleasure, curses, prayers, songs, and poems.

There's this huge black shadow with a traditional white Japanese mask on it's face there too. It stares ahead. He's all sticky, like tar, on the inside, unlike the figures of the people I had met in my life. It's somewhat difficult to get past him.

Piko used to be there. He'd hold my hand when I got scared, and walk me step by step. Eventually I couldn't see him, just hear him. Then I could just feel him holding my hand. Now I can't feel him there at all.

In the dream, it seems as if the closer I get to the top, the farther away it moves. It's really frustrating. I just have to know what this dream means. It's so real, so there, so…So…..I can't really explain it. Nostalgic, almost? Haunting? Like, someone singing a children's lullaby, getting the notes wrong, giving it and eerie feel….I guess that was a bad comparison. But…..I don't know. Like I said. I'm fucked up.