So today, when we were talking about the shooting in Connecticut, I realized something. I realized that this event - though not as terrible - would turn out like 9/11 and people would remember it for years. Now, I'm not saying that the shooting wasn't horrible or anything, but seriously, this kind of thing happens in other countries all the time and the only reason we are so greatly effected is that it happened in the US. I agree - as I stated before - that this was horrible and I feel bad for anyone affected, so no one can say that I'm a heartless bitch and what not. I personally believe that people just need to move on, with not only this but 9/11 too. I personally feel like this statement that I have Alfred say explains everything in a nutshell:
"We need to forgive in order to forget, and forget in order to heal. Because if we don't heal, our scars will continue to spread until our entire being is corrupted."
And also:
"The dead need to be set free, and we need to forget in order to do that."
If I were dead, I wouldn't want people to mourn my death or plot revenge or even hate the person for killing me. I'd want people to move on and live their life not only for them but also for the dead.
I'm not asking for you to agree with me, I'm just stating my opinion.
England sighed as he took in the state of their apartment. Bottles upon bottles of alcohol were discarded on the once spotless floor, leaving a trail to the couch where most of the glasses were piled. On the couch, there was groaning America who had an arm over his eyes.
Of course, he didn't expect any different. It was that day of the year again: one of the only days when America attempted to drink his troubles away. September 11th.
"It's been more than ten years, Alfred. Don't you think it's time to move on?" The Brittan mumbled as he started to straighten up the room.
America moaned again, "Don't you think I want to?"
England shook his head sadly, "Drinking yourself to death isn't moving on."
"You think I want this!" Alfred had suddenly shot up, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and sadness. "It isn't me that's having trouble! It's my people! As long as they hold onto this hate, the memories will keep returning! Today is always the worst. I remember everything, and drinking is the only think that blocks it out." The American had fallen back onto the couch as his rant came to an end.
Arthur stood paralyzed as result, not fully knowing what to do to make the situation better. Just as he was about to slide over and offer a comforting hand, Alfred began to speak again.
"We need to forgive in order to forget, and forget in order to heal. Because if we don't heal, our scars will continue to spread until our entire being is corrupted. I don't think the dead want us to mourn their death with hate and holding on. The dead need to be set free, and we need to forget in order to do that."
"I'm tired of reliving the screams and the pain, Arthur. Please, I don't think I can take it anymore."
Whatever had been hold England in his place broke, and the country immediately latched his arms around his companion when he saw the tears beginning to form.
America shifted so England could fit onto the couch, and so he could move onto the elder's lap. Arthur started to stroke Alfred hair, muttering nonsense to calm him down.
Deep down, he knew it'd be awhile until the Americans would forget such an event. But, maybe in a few years the country would finally move on and honor the dead by living their lives to the fullest.