AN: I found this story while looking for coloured paper. Wrote it almost a year ago. Reviews would be appreciated c:

"If the world was going to come to an end in a year, would you be with me?"

"Of course."

How easily those words slipped from your mouth, accompanied by your trademark smile. And how easily I believed you, giggling like a foolish school girl. Back then, however, it was easy to smile. It took the smallest of gestures – a hug, a kiss, a smile, or just an exasperated look from across the meeting room as England droned on and on about some useless subject.

It's harder to smile now. Without your brightness to illuminate my world, I find it hard just to open my eyes in the morning, hard to bring myself to face the painful reality of a cold, empty bed, without the smell of coffee or even the greasy smell of the shit you called food.

You're probably up there now, watching the words I'm scribbling onto these sheets. Watching me as I hesitate, unsure of what to put down on these flimsy pages. Your brother gave me this diary a few moths ago, I'm only just using it now. I didn't know what to write on these lines, didn't think it would help. It won't bring you back, after all, because words are just ink and ink cannot revive the dead.

It's funny to think that how your death has brought us closer together as a global community. To know that your legacy is the fact we are more connected. France and England have stopped fighting over the littlest of things, China has renounced his communist leader and has begun to change to a democracy, and Canada is the bonding glue, forming the "World Union Project". And I'm just here, floating on a sea of grey.

And if you are wondering, the new personification is just as infuriating as you are. But he won't fill the hole you've left in my heart.

I cannot think of anything more to tell you, my love. Only that I miss you, and hope that, soon, we will reunite.

I love you,

Russia