Power is overrated.
Whether you earn it or born with it, power is the Midas Touch. With one touch, everything is destroyed; beside the material things - family, friends and cherished ones are the ones that really count. Eventually, your mind, body, soul - will fall in the line of annihilation. I wish I didn't have this problem, this so-called "gift". To me, it's nothing but a flat out plague blessed upon the damned in the world.
I am not human, yet I am.
I am not God, yet I am.
Anthropomorphism or more commonly known as "Hetalia", is a curse in a violently, wonderful dream. You live as a personification of a country. You are the representative – alpha & omega to your nation and the right hand man (or woman) to your leader. If you have siblings, be grateful – you only get to be a capital, but even then the risks are higher. Wants and desires from other countries trying to take you over is a strong issue, since capitals are weaker than countries. These desires lead to arguments, arguments leads fighting, and fighting leads to war, war leads to bloodshed – and bloodshed leads to more bloodshed. It's a never ending cycle of pain, torture & hatred…but if you see beyond the darkness of the pure black lattice of pain and despair, you can savor a quiet moment of simple humanity that is left within you.
Everything is peaceful.
Peace.
Peace.
Then you wake up and realize that peace doesn't exist.
"Only in fairytales," my mother used to say. "Only in fairytales."
Birthdays are special occasions; something to be cherished and not to be missed. Unfortunately for me, I hoped and prayed that mine would just stop existing altogether. Nothing ever happened. Not only did I NOT enjoy my "gift" I was born with, ever since my 1st birthday, something always happened. My first birthday – it rained non-stop for hours on end; my second birthday – rats ate my birthday cake BEFORE I did. When I turned three, I got pneumonia; at age 4, I broke arm when I fell off my horse
You see where this is going, right?
Now that I am 17 today, I have officially survived 17 years of pure birthday hell. It is not something you look forward too. Also, the sudden fear of death-intricate anxiousness increased to a new high, terrified that the bad news this year was going to be….well, worse than the last. If you were me, you would know the ultimate power of negative thinking and how it morphs your mind. Since the number 7 was in 17, I thought it would give me some kind of luck, but I thought wrong. As I swung open the thick, Birchwood bedroom door and walked down one of the many hallways, my mind signaled a threat. Something was…off. I could sense it in the air; as if a burglar was silently invading your home with you still in bed, in frozen panic attack. The solid sound of my heels stopped their irritating, but constant clacking and my eyes wandered around, examining every square inch of the hallway. The heavy perception of dread and melancholy was definitely present in the house. I continued walking down the carpeted corridor; I stopped abruptly at my mother's bedchamber. Cries could be heard through the door, even in its thickness. My hand gravitated toward the polished, brass handle before I stopped to think.
Could this be the bad news of the day? It has to happen, I know it will. It happens every year, so why should this year be any different? NO! This year is different! Today will start and end on a positive note!
I shook my head and grinned. Nothing was going to ruin this day. Nothing. I inhaled deeply and opened the door. I looked up, then down and assess the situation. My bruder, my strong, yet silent, prim and proper man of 25 years was crying – no, bawling, into the intricate woven fabric of mother's dress. I stared in utter awe as my mind could not compute what was happening at the current time. Never in my life had I seen Roderich cry actual tears. It was a strange sight to see, like lion mourning over the death of a gazelle.
"M-mutter, what's happening?" I asked silently.
She looked up at me as her crystal blue eyes shimmered with tears.
"Oh, libeling, I…I…we have lost the war." She whispered with a horrid pained look on her beautiful face.
Those terribly blunt words cut through me like a knife. We lost? How is that possible! As I walked over to mutter, I could feel the tears starting to fall. I didn't know why I was crying, but it just felt natural.
"B-but how?" I said as I kneeled beside her.
"It was my entire fault, I am truly sorry schwester." Roderich said as he lifted his head. His once beautiful violet orbs were now hopeless bloodshot eyes filled with sorrow and pain. The sight startled me at first, but the tears just fell harder.
"Oh bruder, it's not your fault, you did the best you could. I am and will always be proud of you." I wrapped my arms around his neck. He squeezed back and cried into my shoulder even more.
"You don't understand mein kleine. I lost the war and everything with it. I lost- Iost you."
I let go of him and got up as I slowly backed away from him.
"What do you mean by that Roddy?" I questioned, scared of his answer.
"You are no longer under the control of Austria; you belong to that verdammt imbecile now." He said as he dropped his head, still kneeled down on the ground.
"Whoever are you talking about?" I thought aimlessly.
"That God-forsaken country, Pr-Pru-ssia…a..."
Prussia. Prussia. PRUSSIA! PRUSSIA!
"What? I-I….We couldn't poss-….PRUSSIA!...But, he…I just-…..No…No….no….!" My incoherent babbles became screams of madness in mere seconds.
My mind was drawn a blank as for I was speechless. A raging pain coursed through my head as tears stained my cheeks.
How could-but I- it can't be….No, this is a dream. Wake up! WAKE UP!
My mind raced, trying its best to decode the information told to me.
"I lost- Iost you."
"I lost- Iost you."
"I lost- Iost you."
It was like a broken record playing repetitiously and couldn't be stopped.
"No….no…no…nononoNONONONO!" I screamed as I hunched over on the floor; hands covering my ears and eyes squeezed tight.
I wanted the words to end.
I wanted his voice to end.
I wanted the world to end.
Blackness.