Hello! This is my first fanfiction here on so please bear with me~! This is also the first story—err.. it's not a story as of yet since it's still like, one journal entry xD- I made in the Hetalia fandom.

I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters.

"Dear Journal,

I know I haven't written for like, months now but.. I just want to vent and I don't have anyone to vent to. It's actually a miracle that I managed to find you, you little piece of- Ah damn. Sorry for that. Since you're the only one that knows my secrets, it's pretty harsh for me to curse you now is it?

Well Journal, I've been.. depressed lately (that's not new, I know) because.. because..

Because every-goddamned-body calls Veneziano "Italy" while they call me Romano. Just.. Romano. Can't they see that it hurts? I'm Italy too! Italia Romano. That's my name. I'm the southern half of Italy.

Why can't the other nations see that it hurts me every single time they call my brother Italy? It hurts so bad that I don't even know what to do anymore.. I just feel so.. so unwanted.. All my life, I've been the second best.. I'm the one that's ignored. Nobody listens to my opinions because I'm just /Romano/.

Romano.

Not Italy.

Just Romano.

And also for the fact that my human name, Lovino, is not helping either. You see, Journal, my name is derived from the word "Rovino" or "Rovinare" which means "to ruin". Awful right? It's like, I was destined to be the bad one. I ruin everything. Every friendship I've ever had. Nobody sticks with me.

Maybe it's time that I should just.. fade away? Nobody needs me. And I'm pretty sure that Feliciano could handle being the sole representative of Italy. That's what he is, isn't he? Italy. Even though we're both halves of Italy, he's the only one acknowledged.

I'm not Italy in everyone's eyes.

I'm not Italy then.. I'm nothing.

Nobody will be sad if I go right? As long as they have their precious little 'Italy.' Hell, they'll probably celebrate if I fade. I can just hear them say "Ha! No more of that worthless, bad-mouth excuse for a half-nation!"

Well, Journal. I don't know what to do with my life anymore. Nobody needs the personification of South Italy. Feliciano will officially be Italy after I'm done.

That's it, Journal. I don't want to be alive anymore.

End.

P.S. Grazie for bearing all those rants of mine."

The Southern Italian closed his Journal and placed it on his bedside table as he walked to the bed. He sat down, his eyes mournful, as he flipped open the pocket knife that was always inside his pocket. He stared at the wickedly sharp blade before using it to slash his scar-filled olive skin.

So yeah, it's just one journal entry. I'm not even sure if I should make this into a multi-chapter story ._.

Please rate and review if you think that I should continue it~ c:

-BRP