A/N: I don't own Hetalia. Please R&R.
She just wasn't good enough. She would never be good enough. Belarus knew that now. She knew how the other nations thought of her. She knew how her beloved Russia thought of her. As a psycho. As a "crazy incest bitch." As the nation that you should stay away from. Belarus had tried making friends. She had tried. For a while, Liechtenstein had wanted to be Belarus' friend. And Belarus had tried to let her in, but Switzerland had freaked out when he found out. He had shot at Belarus. At the time, Belarus had been glad she was safe after that whole mess. Now she was wishing one of the bullets had hit her.
She had tried to find other romantic interests. She had gone on a date or two with Canada, but anyone could tell that he was terrified of her. And though she had liked him, she knew it would never work out. So even the nation who was always forgotten was better off than she was; she was just a psycho with a crazy family. Canada had a loving family, and when he was remembered, he had America. The other reason Belarus knew she would never be good enough for Canada: he already had someone to love him more than she ever could.
And Belarus was ready to give up. She had thought about who, if anyone. would miss her. Probably her big sister, Ukraine. And Italy would probably be upset, not that he knew her. Liechtenstein might be sad; they were friends once, after all. Maybe even Canada. But maybe not. Maybe no one would miss her. Maybe they would celebrate her death. Maybe she would be forgotten quickly, or remembered as Russia's stalker. Because no one had ever really gotten to know her.
So now, sitting on the floor of her bedroom, crying, Belarus was giving up. She grabbed her favorite knife, rolled up her sleeves, and slit her wrists, biting her lip to keep from crying out from the pain. And as her life flashed before her eyes, it lingered on one nation. Not Russia, as most nations would think. Canada. And then she was gone.