ᴀᴜɢᴜsᴛɪɴᴇ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ⁞×

[死亡,你为什么背叛我?]

I don't own Hetalia.

Title: death, why do you forsake me?

I sleep early to appease the groaning of my body. I lie in bed at ten, and blink; it is six in the morning and I can sleep no longer.

A day lasts but a minute. I can no longer stop to smell the roses because they die before I can raise them to my face.

How much longer am I expected to bear this?

I must live, my country wills it. I must go on, China does not stop, does not die.

Oh, how I want to sleep...

At the world meeting, my joints grind against another in protest, crying out; they have seen their neighbours for the last four millennia, is there no reprieve?

America stands up quickly, bouncing around the room like his feet were springs. If I could remember what it was like to be two hundred and thirty-five again!

'Hey China, look alive!' he grins.

Alive? So I was, at a time when I could handle a sword—it was me who taught Japan—instead of the clumsy wok I use today. So I used to be. No longer alive, but unable to give myself up to death though so very willing. Will it not take me by force before I am completely useless? Am I to be a storehouse for memories that the world does not care to remember anymore?

I am the last to know the ancients. I am the last ancient. If Japan, my younger brother, is old—what am I?

Someone asks me if I am alright; I sigh out the burdens of too many centuries and say, 'I want to sleep.'

「我求你,让我睡。」

「I beg you, let me sleep.」

你为什么不让我睡?

Why won't you let me sleep?

back to angst it is. #3 of meng-can't-bring-herself-to-study-so-have-a-drabble-instead.

in other news, today is my parents' anniversary~.