Dear China, All I can say is that I miss you. You were the light in the black abyss that is life. You filled my heart with fiery warmth that the vodka never did. I thought you'd never leave me, but you did. I don't even know why I expected you to stay. Just like everyone else, you were afraid of me, and that alone forced you to leave. Unlike the others, you tried to understand me, and I tried to change for you, but I will never be the way the world wants to see me.

My first winter without you was the coldest I've ever faced. I know Russia is a cold country, but this seemed worse than before. The other side of the bed never looked so after your body left it. I was a glacier, cold and alone.

I remember the day you left. I woke up one morning, and you were gone. I searched the entire house for hours. I searched the entire house, and all of your things had seemed to disappear. Your toothbrush no longer sat by the sink with mine. The driveway had been shoveled, and your car left only an empty spot and tire tracks. All I could find was your old hairbrush, forgotten under the bed. I tried to call you, but I was blocked. That was the first time I cried in years.

I went back to hiding my scars. You told me I was beautiful, even with each imperfection, but why would you leave me if you thought I was perfect? You told me that I shouldn't hurt myself, but a new scar has appeared for every day I've been without you. I wish you would come here right now and kiss each and every one of them, just like you used to. It's kinda ironic that most of them were indirectly caused by you.

Do you miss me back? I hope you don't. I hope you can forget every memory of me. I was no good for you, or maybe it was you who was no good for me. I know I hurt you with my fists and all those vases I threw at you, but you hurt me in a different way. A way that even I, a masochist, could not handle. Your love was bullets, and my heart was your target. You gave me more pain than hundreds of years of war ever did.

I hope I can trust you with my last goodbyes. You don't need to tell anyone I died, I doubt they'll care. Please promise me that one day, when somebody asks, "Hey, where's Russia?" You'll tell them that I died. You'll tell them I was a coward, I took my own life. Please do not remember me, please do not miss me.

With love,

Russia.

P.S. My last wish is that you'll forget that I ever existed.