AN: HI ALL! I KNOW I'M BEING A VERY NAUGHTY AUTHOR BY STARTING SOMETHING NEW BUT I CAN'T HELP MYSELF. I WAS VERY MUCH INSPIRED BY THE NEW "PAPER TOWNS" TRAILOR AND I FEEL THE NEED TO WRITE-WRITE WRITE WRITE WRITE! SO YES THIS IS KIND' OF INSPIRED BY "PAPER TOWNS" AND "THE FAULT IN OUR STARS"... BUT IT'S NOT GOING TO BE THE SAME STORY. AT LEAST THAT IS MY INTENTION. :) IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE SAME SPIRIT.

THIS MAY ALSO BE AN EXCUSE TO PRATICE WRITING IN THE FIRST PERSON... SOMETHING AS YOU PROBABLY KNOW I HAVEN'T DONE IT.

BECAUSE IT IS ME THIS IS GOING TO BE ROMANCE IN IT, AND THE TECHNICAL MAIN PAIRING IS GOING TO BE... PRUHUN. :3 HEE HEE.

I'M ALSO GOING TO SAY... THAT SOME OF WHAT YOU ARE GOING TO READ IS INSPIRED BY MY OWN LIFE... JUST AN FYI. IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT I PUT IN FROM MY OWN LIFE FEEL FREE TO ASK! I'M MORE THAN HAPPY TO ANSWER ANY QUESTIONS!

PLEASE ENJOY AND PRETTY PLEASE REVIEW! CRITQUES AND CRITICISIMS ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GROW AND IMPROVE AS A WRITER. THIS COULD BE SOMETHING I WOULD LOVE TO MAKE A PUBLISHABLE STORY SO... REVIEW AWAY.

DISCLAIMER- HETALIA=NOT MINE CHARACTERS IN HETALIA=NOT MINE

~BORN TO FLY~

~CHAPTER ONE~

~MY SO CALLED LIFE~

This story may be a little cliché... hell it may be very cliché but it's my story.

Everyone tells you that your teenage years are the best and the worse years of your life. It's a time of your life where you are beginning to grow and spread your wings, just beginning to test the waters of the real world. It's also a time where your hormones are shooting all over the place and you are incredibly self conscious and aware of everything little thing wrong with you. It's a time where you feel the need the need to succeed and feel the need to rise above and show that in some way or another you are the best.

Or maybe it was just me?

It wouldn't surprise me or anyone who is close enough to me that I'm a bit of a perfectionist. Ever since I was a little girl, I had always expected and demanded the best out of me. I've always been extremely ambitious and when I was little I was extremely confident and outgoing. My mom always told me that whenever someone would tell me I was beautiful, I would smile back at them and say "I know!".

It's hard to remember how everything went wrong.

As I stare at myself in the grimy bathroom mirror I can't help but to try and pin point the moment everything went wrong. I was born far too early. My birthday is June second, but I was supposed to be born July 7. Obviously I don't remember any of this but apparently I came very close to dying a number of times when I was a baby. As the story goes when I got a little older everything seemed to be going fine. Oh how the world can be such a cruel and ironic place.

Despite being a seemingly happy and active little girl there was something wrong. Apparently I wasn't growing, and my tiny little frame became chubbier and chubbier. This all began when I was in six years old in kindergarten.

Then I turned nine.

God... this is going to turn into a John Green novel isn't it?

I let out a huff of air and scowled, forcing those memories back into the recesses of my brain. I ran my fingers through my long, dark hair to help smooth out my waves. Said hair was still tangled and as wild as a bird nest, and my eyes were sagging and lined with ugly black circles. I glanced over out the bathroom mirror, my tired brain expecting to see a light blue sky dotted with thin wispy clouds. Instead I saw the black nothingness of a day that refused to start.

Why school had to start at 7:30, and why my bus had to come at 7:00 in the morning was beyond me. For the last three years I woke up day in and day out at 5:45 in the morning... which was partly my fault because I take forever to get ready in the morning. Day in and day out I walked up the small hill and stood across the street from a Jewish grave yard to wait for a bus. Even as a senior I still found myself standing and waiting for the lumbering yellow bus to roll its way up the hill to my stop.

It was just the way my life seemed to work.

With one last tired sigh I lumbered down the stairs. With each step I took the stairs let out a loud and painful moan. Once I reached the kitchen I pulled out a smooth bowl and dumped in a small helping of corn into the bowl. Once the glass of orange juice was poured I reached into the cabinet and took out a hard, orange pill bottle. I took out two pills and sipped them down with a large gulp of milk. This was a routine I did every single morning. I woke up, and before I went to eat my first meal of the day I had to take two rather large white pills. It was only two of the six pills I had to take every day to keep myself functioning.

With my breakfast ready I slowly climbed back to my room and turned on the little TV that sat on my white armoire. A very colorful and familiar cartoon played softly in the background as I munched on my cereal and sipped on my orange juice.

My room was a room of a little girls. The walls were a faded shade of light pink, and my rug was a beautiful rose pink-or at least it had been. Years of being mistreated had caused it to fade into a brownish color, not to mention the fact it was fraying. My green eyes glanced over to the end of my bed, where a large ebony cat slept soundly. A loud, rather annoying snore filled the room as he slowly breathed in and out. I rolled my eyes and smirked.

"Fucking cat..." I muttered with a shake of my head. I let out a huff of air and looked at the glowing green numbers on the cable box, which to my horror said 6:30.

Great. Just great.

I gobbled the rest of my soggy cereal and chugged my tart orange juice. With a hop and a thud I was on my feet and at my closest, quickly searching for something decent to wear. It seemed the only decent outfit I would find was a pair of blue jeans, a loose fitting green shirt and a black hoodie.

"This will have to do... they're lucky I'm not wearing my P.J'S..." I could feel precious seconds ticking by and I grabbed my hair brush and pulled it through my hair as quickly as possible. Thankfully despite my hasty and jerky movements my chocolate waves didn't seem to look completely crazy. I glanced at the clock once more and it seemed time was slipping by me today.

Some how though-some how I managed to get out of the house five minutes before 7:00 and made it with a few measly minutes to spare, just enough time to catch my breath and take in my surroundings.

I lived and spent my entire life in a small town in New England, a very typical well to do New England town. Most of the world around me seemed to fast asleep-as I knew I should have been. The sky was still a dark void. There was a glimmer of light peaking through the blackness, giving hope that a bright sun was going to come eventually. This is what happens in October before time magically falls back, it is pitch black for much longer in the morning. It was just light enough that I could see the world around me.

If there was one thing I had to say is that my humble little town was the most beautiful place in the world once fall arrived. Even though it was dark and early in the season I could see the leaves beginning to change their color. Though many of them were still green it was impossible to miss the specks of brown, red and yellow that dotted each tree. My neighborhood was surrounded by beautiful tall trees. One of my favorite things to do was look down at my little neighborhood from my small hill. Everything seemed so calm and peaceful. The trees seemed to stretch for miles and miles, and I couldn't help but to imagine how lovely they would look once the leaves were fully changed. The whole neighborhood would be engulfed in a rainbow of browns, reds and yellows, creating an awe inspiring sight.

I looked down at my phone to check the time. It was 7:00 AM, and before I looked up I could hear the distant sound of a loud, rumbling engine. Sure enough I could just see a large yellow shape in between the balding trees. The bus rumbled towards me and I couldn't help but to look behind me to see if there would be that one straggler running up the hill.

Nope. It seemed that yet again I would be the only soul at that lonely bus stop.

The bus rolled to a stop in front of me and the doors swung opened. I couldn't help but to smile as a soft, round woman beamed at me. Her hair was so blonde it looked white and her eyes were as blue as the ocean.

"Hey Eliza!" She said in a cheery voice.

"Hey!" I said back, trying to make my tired voice sound as sunny and bright as hers. I took my customary seat in the first seat on the right hand side next to the window. With my tattered and faded blue back pack resting next to me I knew my day was really about to begin. There was no way to plan my escape, to find a way to stay in bed for the entire morning and spend the entire afternoon on Netflix or Youtube. At that moment there was nothing I could do but sit back and let my music take me away.

At that moment I particularly addicted to a song called "Born to Fly". It seemed to speak to my soul, especially where I was at that moment in my life. I found myself staring out the window, and my mind couldn't help but to wonder.

Somehow I had managed to make it to my senior year of high school. I couldn't help but feel the that the world as what my finger tips, and I was thrilled and terrified by that idea. It was only the beginning of the year and I had already seen at least two schools with more to come. There were so many wonderful, amazing schools I wanted to apply to and attend. It seemed like an endless amount of choice that it seemed impossible to even begin to narrow them.

Deep down though... I knew it would be much easier to narrow my options down because of one simple reason.

Money. That hideous green stuff was quickly becoming the vein of my existence, the very thing that made me groan and want to scream to God "Why?! Why?! Why?"

I knew I had no reason to complain. I have never wanted for anything in my life and I always had a roof over my head, nice clothes to wear and food in the house. I had a little flat screen T.V and a Iphone in my hands-okay it was an older Iphone but it was still an Iphone. My house was filled with not one, not two but six pets; three dogs and three cats. I had parents that loved me and supported me no matter what. I had nothing to complain about and I knew it.

There is a point to all of this.

As mentioned before I grew up in a very well off small New England town. It wouldn't surprise me if many people around me were millionaires or even billionaires. I was not one of those people. My mom made a decent amount of money teaching piano and playing music at church every Sunday on the side, and my Dad toiled away in a restaurant, working his way up the later until he would be the head of the kitchen and maybe even own the restaurant one day. In a sense it was a blessing that he had been laid off from his former office job four years ago. During those three years he didn't have a job he went to cooking school and did odd job to odd job, until he finally found a steady job.

After that time life was slowly and slowly getting back to normal, and at that point in my life the only time I had ever thought about college was in a child like fantasy. Even now one might say my college aspirations of pure dreams and fantasy. Despite knowing it would take a miracle I desperately wanted to apply to schools like William and Mary and even Columbia. My parents were of cores supportive of me, but always tried their best to keep me in the world instead of the clouds.

I knew there was no harm in trying, and I knew deep within my gut that I had to at least try. I knew that as beautiful and tranquil my little town and state was I could not stay there. I had spent eighteen long years in the same town and had only left the North East once. As the bus began to fill I was only reminded of why I wanted to leave. While I was wearing a pair of jeans, a long night crew neck shirt, a black hoodie and a jacket there were many girls dressed like it was still summer. All around me I could see tight leggings, thin flowing shirts that compete showed their colorful bars and their barely there stomachs. There were dresses and shorts that were so short it would only take one wrong look to see said girls underwear... if she was wearing underwear that is. Mid-drifts were a bond and I found myself trying my best not to look and judge.

But it was impossible.

What did they think they were living in Miami or LA? Were they asking for a certain kind of attention? I had my suspicions it was the later, but who was I to judge. If they wanted to dress in thin sheets of cotton that just kept them for looking naked that was their choice. Of cores not every girl was dressed in such a way, but the number of those that did was awe inspiring. Another thing I couldn't help but to notice was a shocking number of them were very skinny and very blonde. How many of the blondes were real was up for debate, but it was obvious many of them were very skinny.

I looked down at my lap and had to bite my lip for keep me from letting out a monster moan. I wasn't fat, but I wasn't the skinniest girl on the planet either. It seemed that God had deemed it fit to bless me with a solid pair of hips, a flat ass and a slightly smaller than average boobs. Needlessly to say I looked a little... different. Not only that I was different from my fellow students.

Don't get me wrong I was a very kind and funny and friendly person-or at least I like to tell myself I am. I have my group of friends, and I knew my place in the world. I also knew I didn't have the patience or the time for the ungodly mindless chit chat that surrounded me.

There was a reason I listened to music whenever I was on the bus-and it was simply to block out the noise around me.

That day, that dreary early October day seemed to be flying by like lightning, because instead of seeing trees and houses I suddenly saw my school.

It was a fairly large, pale brick building that was four stories high and stretched over rolling green hills. As we drove in front of the school and towards the bus loop I could see the vibrantly green and fake field surrounded by a reddish clay colored track. The line of giant yellow buses hid the cracking cement stares. Soon enough we were in the loop. There was the vain hope that our bus would be able to pull into the front of the school and I could just hop of the bus and waltz up the stairs and get my day over with.

And of cores we ended up being behind three other buses that either refused to move or their drive had escaped to use the bathroom so we couldn't get the glorious spot right in front of the school doors. I stood up as soon as I knew I could as slug my old back pack over my shoulders. The doors opened and I was ready to make my escape... only to be forted by people who were even more impatient than me. I stood as patiently as possible, trying to ignore the seconds that were ticking away. The second I could I bonded off that monster and was lucky that I didn't break my ankle in the process.

Those steps... it will get you.

I took a look at my phone to check the time for what seemed like the millionth time, and thankfully I had ten minutes to get to my first class...which was Learning Center... and then I had another free period after that because thank god it was not a Tuesday or Thursday.

If only it wasn't a Monday.

With my head phones still firmly in my ears I walked into the pale brick building and found myself in a sea of people. The main lobby of the school seemed to be the center of the universe and as many students as possible were crammed in there. Some mornings were better than others but on that particular morning it was particularly bad. I weaved my way through the people, not even bother to say "Excuse me" because they wouldn't have heard me or even cared. Much like me they were in their own little world and who was I to invade their world.

There's always a glimmer of hope that the hallways would be a little more free but of cores luck is never on my side. The hallway I had to walk down was about as congested as the I 95 when some moron got themselves in a deadly and explosion filled car crash. The morons this time though were people who seemed to think it was perfectly acceptable to stand smack in the middle of the hallway in a horde and gab and gab away. People who actually had to get somewhere were forced to snake around the large and obnoxious group cluster of morons, making it completely impossible to keep the flow of bodies.

Somehow though I got to my class room, which my best friend and I called "The Hole". We called it the hole because despite being smack in the middle of an intersection of hallways and next to water fountains once you walked inside it was an osseous. Once you were in its white falls and found a seat you were hidden away from the world. There was even a private room off to the side where I loved to escape with a book and curl up in a rocking chair with my head phones. It was one of my favorite places in that maze of a building and I was grateful that I was able to spend so much time there. It was place where I could sit in peace with my music and get whatever homework I managed to blow off done.

That was what I had expected to do when I walked over to my spot, placed my trust old bag down on the chair and hung my coat on the coat rack.

"Morning Eliza!" A voice called. I knew who it was before I turned around, a sure enough looking at me from her desk was the one and only Ms. B. Ms. B was a short, extremely well endowed young woman. Even though she wasn't leaning far her massive boobs were pressed agents the immense stack of papers. Her eyes were so blue they looked purple from a distance. Her thick blonde hair was cut in a short bob that framed her round, pretty face. She always seemed to have a smile on her face... you wouldn't be surprise that she did mean business.

"Morning Ms. B." I said as I walked over to my spot. I picked up my bag and dropped on the floor. It landed with a loud thud and Ms. B's smile quickly disappeared. Her pretty face was hard with anger and she leaned forward on to her paper-probably getting them stuck on her boobs.

"Your bag is to heavy! Use your locker!" I was in the middle of taking out my Spanish binder and as I placed in the smooth table I replied in a child like manner,

"What's a locker?" Though I wasn't looking at her I knew she was rolling her eyes. I also knew that she did indeed get some papers glued to her boobs because I could hear her muttering what I could only assume were curses in Russian. It was so hard not to fall out of my chair laughing... and I may have been if I didn't need to get that cursed Spanish work done.

Little did I know that getting my homework done would become nothing but a simple dream. As I was leaning over and starting the first question on the seemingly daunting sheet when I heard the sound of heels coming closer and closer towards the room. I couldn't help but to look up... and lord did I wish I hadn't.

Standing in the room was the heel wearing brunette guidance counselor, Mrs. Berg but that wasn't what made my heart stop and made my blood running cold. Standing next to Mrs. Berg was a tall, lean and lanky porcelain skin boy. His thick mop of hair was so blonde it looked white from where I was sitting. His loose fitting navy colored shit only made his snow like skin and blonde hair stand out even more. It was his eyes that put me over the edge and took my breath away. His eyes were almond shaped and the deepest and most brilliant shade of brown I had ever seen. They were eyes that when up close would look like the color of red wine. My mouth nearly dropped to the floor as his lips twisted into an all too familiar smirk. It was a smirk I had seen almost every day as a child and I could still hear his voice in my head, even though it had been years since I had seen or even spoke to him.

"Good morning! I'd like you to meet Gilbert Beilschmidt. He's new here and I'm sure you will all give him a warm and friendly welcome."

I could barely hear Mrs. Bergs family and kind voice. It seemed to be swimming in the middle of all the memories flooding through my head. I was so tempted to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming but there was one reason I knew I wasn't dreaming.

If I was dreaming I was almost positive it wouldn't be in this god forsaken place.

The other way I knew I wasn't dreaming was my pounding heart and my tight chest as he continued to smirk at me. My hands were beginning the shake and I covered them in my hoodie in a desperate attempt to hide them.

God since when was I such a nervous wreck... especially over Gilbert freaking Beilschmidt. That ass hat just continued to smirk at me even as Mrs. Berg was talking to Ms. B. There were small wrinkles around the corner of his month and his eyes, as if that smirk was ever present.

Then... he spoke.

"Eliza."

HA HA HA HA IT IS DONE! THE FIRST CHAPTER OF MY FIRST FIRST PERSON STORY IS DONE, AND THE GOOD NEWS IS THAT AT THE MOMENT THEY SEEM MUCH EASIER TO WRITE SO HOPEFULLY CHAPTERS WILL COME OUT FASTER AND FASTER.

SERIOUSLLY... THIS IS SO MUCH EASIER BUT IT'S ALSO SO MUCH MORE PERSONAL. SO WHO KNOWS.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!