Dear Holy Rome,
I am so glad the war is over. I don't have to worry about my people out fighting anymore. I lost six hundred thousand men out there, nine hundred fifty thousand were wounded, and two hundred fifty thousand more were crippled for life.
I'm up to my neck in debt, it seems. My government spent so much on the war that inflation is through the roof. Many of the soldiers lucky enough to make it home are now unemployed. A lot of my people are moving to other countries in search of job opportunities. I, myself, am staying with Germany for a while. He is paying me, though it really isn't much.
Germany really doesn't have much to offer right now. He was virtually blamed for the entire war and is being forced to pay for most of the war costs. His people and government aren't doing too well at the moment either. He's deeper in debt than I am, but he still took me in. I think he is a really nice person deep down. He is a good friend, even though he's constantly yelling at me for all my mistakes. Hehehe. But, that's pretty justified I suppose.
I really hope that we can both get back on our feet soon. The more time I spend with him, the more I think it's you I am with, and the more I have to realize that it really is not and can never be you. And though I know it's true, I don't want to accept it. Even if I have to pretend, I want to think you are still here with me. Still watching over me. Still reaching out to me. It is still hard to accept that you're really gone. I still dream about you, and sometimes I have to catch myself in thinking that you will be back soon.
I know very well that it isn't a possibility.
Italy