I think I died on a Sunday. Gods day. I think if I were alive, I'd make a joke about how I was stealing all the glory from God's day. Maybe. But I'm not so sure right now, at least I don't think. Maybe I'm sleeping, but maybe not. I think I actually died; and there were no bright lights, or a man dressed in a simple robe with hair strung of gold gesturing me forward; no golden gates to Heaven, no judgmental time, no white, no fire, nothing. There's nothing but my existence anymore.

Memory clings to me though.

I can see Luddy, when he was a little kid; bright blue eyes, fine blonde hair. Strong features. I sacrificed so he could live. Malnourishment would've killed me. But it didn't. I loved him so much when I was alive. I don't know if I feel now; I can taste what it feels like, though. Love. It's such an exquisite taste. It hurts my existence, my new form, but it also shimmers at my seems, through my soul. At the same time it threatens to make me crumble. Because I am just an existence now, a soul; and I guess a pretty broken one, too. I'm still holding on though.

Anyways, before I go on about people, I should say that where I am, I cannot see, I cannot hear, or feel. When I say taste, you should imagine your whole entire being as a tongue that tastes feelings. Does that make sense? Good. My energy, existence, I guess I can use that interchangeably; but anyways, I just wanted to say, I don't ricochet off any walls, like a fireball, like anyone would think, I'm small and nothing and something, big and huge all at once.

Hungary.

When you're dead, it's okay to admit everything to yourself because you think you're going to get judged and you have to make sure you know what you're gonna be judged for. So I've been thinking and thinking about it but nothing happens. In this time, I keep finding myself on the thought...

Elizaveta I never told you I love you. Maybe I always have loved you though. I think, when I died, on that Sunday, without all the bright lights and the man with the golden hair, that if you had been there, existing, living in a form beside me, I would have clung to you and I would have lived. I think you would've forgotten how we've always acted with each other and you would've held on to me, too. You would've been more open than Luddy. He started closing off as soon as he felt me slipping away. It was something in his soul, something he couldn't control. It hurt him too much. Not that you're stronger. More open... So I've decided that, if by chance I ever lived again, I wouldn't be mad at him.

I also decided that, if by any chance, I were to live again I'd make sure you knew how much I loved you.

Where I am, time is weird, faster, but my existence is blurry and I still cannot feel so it's not like I'm bored or anything. Is this where I'll be forever? Forever's a long time. I try to think about my battles, my scars, but it always goes back to people. Like old Fritz. I was really depressed when he died. Humans are sad like that. They die after such a short time. They're so silly, and ignorant and new, and so beautiful and unique and full of passion. But I guess nations are sad too because we are always going to be crying over how our favorite dictator or president or scientist died, but I guess we get to cheer when the people who have hurt us die. 'Kind of screwed up, but true.

I spend days thinking about how lucky I am to have loved Luddy and Eliza the most and they were nations, not humans, and they are alive in form right now and maybe getting over me, instead of having been dead for 1 year or a hundred or a thousand like humans do. I can feel form in myself, it feels like my existence is being brought under water but floating back up to the surface again. And as time goes by I can feel little pangs of feeling in my chest. Only the strong ones though. Like sadness, anger, love. There's a lot of that in a nation. Even though I've finally faded. Even though I was dissolved. They're like little needles injecting something into my 'skin,' my new form. It dimly shivers through me, it runs through little veins.

A lot of time seems to pass and I can feel myself becoming contained, becoming alive. Shrinking. Losing memory.

I've thought about Austria. And I am sorry. When I am alive, I will make sure to have him understand that I'm a crazy fuck. Was, anyways. With my feelings blossoming in me again, I can feel my soul becoming whole again. The sadness is leaving me. I am growing now. I am racing. Towards life. When I get there, I'll be better.

I promise. I love you, Eliza. I want you to live in fulfillment, Ludwig. I want you to be alive again, Fritz.

It's slipping. Memories dwindle throw fingers like sand. Snow flurries to the ground but does not stick. Rain pounds at dirt, turns it to mud, makes it disintegrate. They come in wisps now.

There's a girl. She has wonderful eyes, they're the color of spring. And there's a man, he's grown so strong, with eyes the color of ice; that thaw into summer. I have form, I have feeling, I have taste, and I can see. I can almost hear them calling for me.

"Gilbert? Are you there? We all knew it would happen, but..." the voice fades. Such a pretty voice, so sad and heavy with tears.

There's a hesitant sigh then, a sad one, the rustle you hear in a bouquet of flowers. "Gilbert..." the voice says, but then no more. I don't know if he says any more. But silence says all, nonetheless. And I understand.

I am here, do you see me? And now I am gone.

- I'm reborn into another world, one different from my own. And in that instant I'm a different existence. And I am gone, in the blink of an eye. Racing, fighting, trying to survive, making it through, and then...then...

Time later. Maybe a day. A month, or years, decades, centuries... don't get carried away though.

The baby girl came into the world, silent and upside down, taking in her surroundings for the first moment she's seen outside of what she knew as home. She barely cries when they make her breathe in their air. Cleaning her mouth and body and slapping her back even more upsets her further but she goes silent, already exhausted, when they set her on her mothers chest. She's exhausted, smiling, laughing so joyfully, and tears drip down her cheeks. They speak in a language she doesn't know; but she can understand tone. Her mother is beautiful and she has loved her since she existed; she has eyes that are bright and green, almost the color of a spring day, but not quite; something of the sort..

I am human. I am no more, and I am unaware.