I'm the hero!
Some days America feels, well, old.
Ironic, really, because compared to England, compared to China, compared to any nation at all, he is very, very young.
But as the days and the years move on and the world spins faster and faster, he can't tell the difference between two hundred years and a thousand. He'd never expected to be where he is now, back when he'd first roared his defiance at the British Empire, when despite his supernatural strength his future was very much uncertain. He'd certainly never imagined so many countries would look up to him as they do today, look to him to be the leader of the free world. Is that a title he made up for himself, or something he acquired along the way? He can't remember, and frankly he no longer cares.
I'm the hero!
The past century especially has taken a toll on him. The tides of revolution crash, then find a new reason to rise, beginning with his women, sweeping up his minorities along the way, until he wakes up one morning holding a gun to someone's head and feeling one at his own; he wakes up the next day finding himself on a journey for the sake of being contrary; he wakes up the next on the streets in a riot, screaming as he tears himself apart; he wakes up yet again the next day in the very average life he spurned just two days ago.
The last decade especially has taken a toll on everyone, as the communication becomes almost instantaneous and news news news is everywhere, all the time, becoming olds faster than the word news is finished being spoken. It reminds him of the insanity of the twenties, the collective highs of the sixties, only this time there's no bottle at his lips, no needle in his vein.
Only at this peak the entire world has gone mad, and it is frighteningly sane. Only this time he is at the very top of the wave, and the others watch as they wait for him to crash.
I'm the hero!
Sitting at the top of the world, as Rome once did, as China has, he marvels at the view. He wonders if when he falls he'll be succeeded like the Italies did with Rome, or if he'll pick himself up again as China has for the past five thousand years. He sees the rest of the world eyeing him, watching in fear but in jealousy too. The world is a roller coaster and everyone wants their turn at the top, for that thrill right before the drop.
Oh, yes, he knows that drop will come some day, though a part of him still shouts that it never will. He can see China, already eager to snatch up the spot. It's an addiction, one every nation seeks to fulfill, even if it breaks them.
He knows that he will fall, and it terrifies him. So while he has the chance—while he's still riding on that high, he'll throw every piece of his being into staying there.
I'm the hero, he screams.
Because only heroes can stop a wave from crashing on the shore. Because everything works out for heroes in the end.