Noob/Guest

It was still an inky blue sky outside when I had woken up with a start, panting and looking around quickly. What was I dreaming of? I was questioned by a voice–I couldn't tell whose voice it was–but I couldn't come up with a proper answer, because all I could remember was yellow, black, yellow, black, yellow, black... hints of white would flash, as well. It was as though my dreams were switching between eachother rapidly, and despite my deep slumber, it somehow made me dizzy.

I scanned my surroundings, trying to gain memory of where I was at the moment, when all of a sudden my head started to hurt badly, and I clutched at it in pain, as memories came flooding back–

I was captured by some Robloxians who were curious about my unusual nature. 

Well, I couldn't blame them, I knew I was unusual myself; if I saw myself, I'd be curious as well. But the question I'd always ask myself was... why?

 I slowly lower my hands just to look at them. The left hand was yellow, the right hand black. My eyes darted upwards at the mirror in front of me and observed my look.

I was a huge pile of mess. Half of my body was someone else. My face, which was stitched, and my eyes, in both, looked empty.... blank. The gray side of my face looked slightly more downcast than the yellow, as if he was just disappointed to be in this body. And I was, too. It could've been me or him, but neither of us thought it'd be both of us at the same time, in the same body.

I rested my hand on the cap, and it felt weird, as though the cap was transparent yet also opaque. It was stressful, not knowing my actual identity when I had two. Was I speaking or was I speaking? Noobs were classified as normal, while Guests were seen as otherwise. But what was I considered as, if I was both? 

I felt too ashamed to go outside, I didn't have any friends, really. I didn't want to be made fun of or seen as weird and odd for being a Noob and a Guest, even though it's not something I can control easily. The first time I decided to go out, I attracted a lot of funny looks, but no one came up to me. The second time, I got captured, and now I'm here, in this dark room at a time that's too early for anyone, questioning myself.

I couldn't remember my childhood either. At times when I forced myself to try and dig into my memory, I'd vaguely see a yellow man with blue legs and a red letter I can't recall lay on his chest, standing over me. That's all I was able to remember from my past–my other memories slowly drifted away from me as time passed. I buried my face into my hands, as one question kept repeating in my head over and over.

Why can't I be like others? Why do I need to be different?