Toxic.
His mind is a river of poisonous thoughts, drowning any logical sense that comes to him. He is being driven insane, torn in two by his broken mind. He is shattered-broken-always broken and tormented and never whole. The pit of his stomach feels vacant. So vacant. But he knows very well that there is no feeling in the world that feels as good as the one he feels right now. Vacant. There can't be another feeling that feels right. He is Japan, the greatest empire the East has ever known. No. He is the greatest empire the world has ever seen. If he feels this way, then he feels it because it is the right way to feel.
Empty.
There is a hole inside where his heart should be. A dark hole that is slowly consuming him. No soul. No love. Just empty. It feels right, but it feels wrong. Toxic. Broken. He is broken, his mind toxic. Always a war with himself. He can win against others, take for himself what is rightfully his, but he can never win against himself. Maybe sanity is not meant to be his, and that is the reason why he can never win.
Lost.
So lost in the cruel world. Lost. Broken. Toxic. Empty.
He looks at the disgusting image before him. A monster. The monster does not live within the reflection but inside himself. He is the monster. The damage he causes to those he holds close to him-it's repulsing. But then, they were never really anything to him-nothing but pawns in the game to become the strongest-so is he really in the wrong? He is the rightful leader, designed to become the best.
Blind.
They are blind to the fact that they need him. He will protect them. Save them. He will save them from the greedy clutches of the West. What he did-what he does-it's all for them. Not just himself. Asia. Asia as a whole. No more broken pieces. No more conflict among them. They are one now. They will be one. They will be whole. They will come together like a puzzle, each of them filling the gaps within his existence.
Whole.
He will be whole. He will be complete. Complete. Not broken. Not empty. Complete. But what can be put together can come undone. Their union is delicate. One wrong move and the puzzle can fall apart, break into hundreds of pieces again.
His fist meets the mirror before him, shattering it into several, uneven fragments. Shattered, just like his mind. Blood spills from his knuckles into the bathroom sink. It drips from the cracks in the mirror, creating a stream of his own blood flowing over his reflection.
Beautiful.
Blood is beautiful. The color, the smell, the taste. So beautiful. So real. Blood means you are alive. He is alive no matter how dead he feels when he looks at his own reflection. Dead is the quiet, reserved, young nation that he once was. Dead. He killed him. He killed himself, but he is alive. He bleeds like living things bleed, so he must be alive. The blood still spills from his ripped skin. It is warm, warm like an embrace. Warmth. Embrace. Love. But blood can blanket another person's body just as well as arms can.
He sneers at his reflection. Yes, he is not meant to be whole. He has never known how to feel complete nor does he want to feel it. Feeling whole-it is a hindrance. A weakness. And he is not weak. He is Japan, Land of the Rising Sun, and he will rise to be the strongest nation in the world. He will destroy everything in his path, even if it means he will lose himself, sink into the depths of his deranged mind. Even if his own thoughts will become poisonous, his heart shattered, his existence empty-he will be whole.
Lost. Toxic. Broken. Vacant. Destruction. Havoc.
Everything around him will be in ruins before he succumbs to another nation's will.
Ruins. Just likes his sanity.
There is no where left to hide-not even with himself.
