Being the capital of Poland isn't as classy a job as it sounds. Don't get me wrong - I love being me - but sometimes, it feels like Poland takes me for granted.

Today was one of those days.

"I'll, like, turn your capital into Warsaw!" Poland was yelling at America.

"Dude, that's ridiculous!" The loud American laughed. "Warsaw isn't even cool enough to be my capital!"

I sighed gloomily from my seat in the world meeting conference room, my chin resting on my hands. Of course today had to be the day that all of the country's capitals were invited to the world meeting; it was the day that Poland decided to use me as a verbal weapon against every single country.

"And you, Russia!" Poland yelled. "I'll make your capital Warsaw because of what you did to Liet!"

Russia smiled his usual smile – innocent and childish on the outside, but angry and brooding on the inside. "What will happen to Warsaw if she gets ripped into so many pieces to be in so many places, Poland? Not a pretty picture, da?"

Poland's face turned red with rage. He slammed his hands on the table. "Don't talk to me about Warsaw like that, Russki! She is, like, one of the most powerful-"

That was it. I was sick and tired of hearing countries to talk about me like I was a thing, some kind of valuable asset. I was a living, breathing city, for heaven's sakes! I stood up from the table and ran out of the room, possibly as fuming as Poland himself.

"Warszawa?"[1] That was Poland's voice that followed me as I ran. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"You stupid git!" yelled England. "You've obviously made her upset-"

"Warszawa!"

I gritted my teeth and kept running. Poland had just crossed the line today. I didn't want to talk to him, or anyone else. I ran until I found the place that I used to hide on days like this: the coat closet. I stuffed myself into the closet and brought my knees up to my chin, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill out of my eyes.

"Warszawa?" Poland's voice was closer now.

I forced myself to calm my breathing down, and I stayed huddled in the little closet, hoping that Poland wouldn't find me.

Unfortunately, it seemed that fate was really against me today.

"Warszawa, tell me what's wrong."

I looked up and saw Poland peering into the closet. I shut my eyes closed and mumbled, "It's nothing."

"Pfft, you can't expect me to believe that, Warsaw." Poland lowered himself to a crouch, where he was at eye level with me. "Hey," his voice grew a little softer, and he gently placed a hand on my shoulder. "Warszawa, what's wrong?"

I opened my green eyes, and tears began to spill from them. "Poland, d-do you really just th-think about me as a-a war t-tool?"

"Hey, Warszawa, stop talking craycray. You're my daughter, not a war tool." Poland smiled kindly into my eyes. "What gave you that idea?"

I sniffled. "Y-you're always, l-like, threatening e-everyone else w-with me. It's like I'm not…" my voice faded to a whisper. "Important,"

"Warszawa," Poland smiled and sat down next to me. He put his arm around my shoulders and said, "I just say that 'cause you're, like, totally amazing. I didn't know it made you feel like this. Accept my apology?"

I couldn't help but smile a little as I wiped my eyes. "Accepted,"

"I love you, Córka."[2]

"I love you too, Ojciec."[3]

[1] – The Polish word for 'Warsaw'.

[2] – The Polish word for 'daughter'.

[3] – The Polish word for 'father'.