Don't ask why, because I don't know.
Pay attention to the ellipses (…) in this story. They indicate a large break in time. I felt like using those rather than line breaks because I think they work better in this case.
Also, ever heard of a "stream of consciousness?" Or the expression "train of thought?" Those basically explain why this story starts on one note and ends on another. (Don't kill me for it…)
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I do not claim otherwise.
It's hard to understand, for someone who's never really experienced it, what it feels like to be in a whole crowd of people, and yet completely alone. Forgotten. Overlooked. It hurts, sometimes, to see everyone else getting the attention that you would give anything for. But it's okay. I don't mind. I've learned to hide it, so when people do notice me, everything looks fine: the way it's supposed to be.
I suppose you could say it's my fault. You could say that I need to speak up more, be more like my arrogant brother, and then people would notice me. I get mistaken for him enough as it is, though. I don't think I'd like being exactly like him; being ignored is better than having a million and one enemies.
Don't get me wrong. People do visit me on occasion. England came once, and France too. Except, they came at the same time, so they just ended up fighting, France going on the whole time about "French territory!" I got tired of watching them and went to bed, and when I woke up they were gone, presumably to go fight elsewhere. All the better, I guess. It was hard to sleep with all the yelling, anyway.
…
A few days ago, America visited for the first time in a while. We played catch. It was fun, though Al throws the ball really hard, and it hit me in the face quite a bit. When I asked him if he could throw it more gently, he said he was throwing it as gently as he could already. He also insulted me a bit, but I don't think he realized it. That might've been my fault, since I never said anything, and just kept my happy face on. I've tried getting mad at America before; it never amounts to anything.
…
The only other person who visits me is Prussia. Actually, he visits me the most out of everyone. I like when he visits. He's loud, like my brother, but he really likes my maple syrup. Every time he visits he asks if he can have some, and when he leaves he usually takes a bottle back home with him. He says it's "the most awesome part of breakfast!" and that, when it runs out, he can't wait to come and get some more from me.
I usually end up making pancakes when Prussia comes over. He insists half the time that maple syrup is "so much more awesome when two awesome people share it." He says that he shares it with Germany when he goes home, but apparently Germany doesn't like it all that much.
While we eat, we talk a bit. Usually, most of the conversation is focused on how awesome Prussia is, and the rest is him laughing whenever I say "eh." It doesn't really bother me, though, because it shows that he's at least listening when I talk, and it's nice. I don't have to put on a happy face, because when I'm with Prussia, I really am happy.
…
Last time, Prussia told me I could call him Gilbert. It made me feel pretty special, because the only other person I call by their human name is my obnoxious brother. He brought Gilbird one time, too, though I'm pretty sure the evil little thing was trying to poke my eye out even though Gilbert said it was just showing affection.
…
Gilbert's visits have been getting so frequent that I've started setting aside bottles of maple syrup just for him. The time between some visits is so short, I find it hard to believe that he really finishes the whole bottle, like he says he does. Sometimes I think that he's coming over because he wants to talk to me, and is just using the maple syrup as an excuse. He must have some ten bottles of it now, all unopened and waiting to be used.
…
I got a letter from Gilbert recently, inviting me over to his house. I got so excited when I saw it that I think I scared Mr. Kumajiro. I've been thinking about why Gilbert would want me over. Maybe he wants me to help him eat all the maple syrup he has. Or he wants to talk…? Whatever the case, I'm so excited that half the time I find myself incapable of staying in one place and pacing a lot.
…
It's almost time to head over to Gilbert's. I'm bringing over a bottle of maple syrup, and I made it look like a gift by tying a maple leaf-patterned ribbon around it in a bow. I think he'll like it a lot. I hope so, anyway. I'm excited to talk to him. I've been wanting to tell him all about the adventure I had a while ago, when Cuba thought I was America and nearly killed me. It was scary, but I think Gil will find it funny.
…
Gil calls me Mattie now. I like hearing him say my nickname, because it makes me feel special. Also, the way he says it just makes it sound so…awesome!
…
Maybe I'm not as alone, and forgotten, and overlooked in the crowd as I think.
I swear, this thing evolved on its own. My fingers just typed the words, and before I knew it, POOF! There it was. Now that I think about it, that's what happens most of the time…