We are known as enemies. Being allies in two world wars didn't change that. We always fight. The difference is that now, the fight is only verbal. It frightens me.
We're at another world meeting today. You make a scorching remark, this time about how nobody wants to be friends with me. Yesterday it was about my, to you, horrible cooking. I, of course, reply in a not very gentlemanly way. Telling you to shut up, frog face and adds in an insult. Our argument keeps going. This is just a repeat of the last world meeting. The rest of the participants ignores us or comments "they're fighting AGAIN?" Our fight is almost a ritual. If we did not fight, people would think it was a sign of the end of the world. Everyone is waiting for the end that always comes. Germany will get enough and yell for us to stop. Repeat. Repeat. Every time we meet is it like that. This time it's not going to end the same way. Because if just one thing changes, then our ritual falls apart.
I had a nightmare last night. You were in it. The nightmare left me in cold sweat. I feared what you told me in it. I am still haven't calmed down. What you said in my nightmare might just be the truth. My heart is racing. Your words are my biggest fear. So the common end they are waiting for will not come. Because something changed today.
So after another comment from you, I punch you. I ruin your oh-so-perfect-face, as you will whine. I don't even know what your last insult was. I must admit that I didn't listen. I just had to punch you. I pray you won't understand why. I calmly walk out in the thundering silence following my punch. You are not commenting on it, so I suppose you are staring at my back in disbelief. I am guessing you resemble an ugly fish right now. Insulting you became so much of a habit that I began to think of you in insults as well.
The door slams shut behind me. I am not planning on going back today. I pray the incident will not have too big of an impact on our countries. I look at the hand that punched you. It is bleeding. Huh, I did not notice that. I go to the bathroom and bandage it.
As I stand in the bathroom, I hear the door open and I notice your reflection in the mirror. You know me too well. You always know where to find me. I finish bandaging my hand. You don't worry about my wound. I don't worry about the bruise on your chin. We both know they'll be gone in the morning. I know today will be forgotten with them.
You ask me why I hit you. Angleterre? Your language makes everything sound like a love confession. I shiver every time you call me by name, or any other name in your language. I don't know if it is because of fear or because of something else. You are worried. I don't think. I repeat your words from my nightmare.
"I don't hate you."
Your eyes widen. That is my only warning before you hit me. You hit me in the same place I did. We are mirror images in our wounds now. You leave. I don't follow you.
Tomorrow will be normal again. There will be another world meeting to replace the one lost today. We will argue. Germany will stop us. Repeat. Because we are enemies. We hate each other. We always have. We always will.
A/N This came to me when I read this quote: "When you hate something, you chain yourself to it" – Steve Maraboli. The quote should be enough of a hint to why the biggest fear was "I don't hate you".