Author Notes: Junior year sucks with the classes I have. I have advice to every single one of you. Never take a class, no matter how great it will look on your transcript,etc, that you don't fully enjoy. The results just won't be worth it, not the mention the stress.
I apologize for not really writing or doing anything. Life is stressful, both in the school and home environment. I'm so close to a mental breakdown at this point. But I'm slowly chugging along.
So this is a small bit I had for a while. We had to write something that pertains to war in English class when we were reading "A Farewell to Arms" by Ernest Hemingway. And of course, mine was USUK related. I hope I wasn't too off character for Iggy here. And I apologize for all my mistakes. This was a very rough writing, but I thought y'all deserved some read for all the reviews and the favourites I've been getting from y'all up to now.
So this is for you all, my dear readers. Enjoy and happy Valentines day!
Dear Diary,
It has been quite some time since I have written in you. Writing in you is the best way to keep the facts true, as somehow historians always mess up the truth (no matter how unbiased they claim to be).
Writing in you is also one of the best ways to keep my sanity in check. There used to be another way, but it seems as if I can not do it anymore.. anylonger...
To restate who I am, and to remind myself of who I am. I am the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. I have conquered many. As they say, "the sun never sets on the British Empire." I AM the British Empire, almighty and conquerer of all (take that you disgusting frog!).
And regardless of how, whether by piracy or not, I have conquered so much by war. War has brought so much to me. So much land, control, resources, people, culture, wwealth, and power. My iron grip on the world built on blood and death seemed so worth it for the power and wealth I would receive.
But now, war is taking away what is most important to me.
Back in the hundred years' war with that frog, I dominated the majority of his lands. Victory was so sure. And in the end, I took what was most important to France, his lovely "Joan d'Arc". She was a lovely thing, and watching her burn was truly enthralling. After all, France whome I've always deemed the loser, should lose something precious of him when I was the victor. I was right, this was the unspoken rule of war, of victory and defeat.
I should have known all this bloodshed would come back to haunt me.
I never did think much of war. After all, I am practically immortal, as long as my country still lives on. Bullet wounds, while sting, will heal over time.
War does take a nasty toll on one's country though. Everytime a major battle is placed on my soil, and every time a major loss of my people's lives are lost, I gain another deep gash, a scar to remind myself I have the responsibility of my people in my hands.
But before, war was the only way to survive. I would go out, bring my men to battle, and kill. I had to ignore every burn, every pain inflicted into me as I continue on to rape, pillage, burn, and kill.
I became a living shell of my past. And in order to live, I didn't really mind living devoid of most emotions.
That is, until we found him.
Until France, Finland, and I found Alfred, in a field of golden wheat in the New World. We found the small, remarkable boy who called himself America.
America drew the "human" out of my cold-blooded empty shell of a country. He made me laugh, smile, and love him so much that I thought nothing would ever separate us.
In my love for him, a new concept to me, I did all I could to protect him. I issued laws to protect him from the greedy eyes of France, Spain, and all the other countries who wanted him. I fought wars to continue to have him in my protective embrace, to allow him to grow without needing to face the harsh and unrelenting realities in the same manner as me.
And when I fought wars for him, like the seven years war against France, even as I felt painful burns and agonizing blows from guns, fire, swords, and cannons, I could withstand them. They were all for him.
And now, America, my sweet America, wants to separate from me. And in that, we are now in a war against each other.
War before for me was the way of living. War, with all its blood, death, and grief, would end with a winner, a victor. I didn't put much thought into the concept, other than to wage battle, to kill, and to live.
But now, there is something for me to lose, more precious than my pride or sanity. Whether I win the war or lose it, America will be lost to me forever. He will never truly treat me the same way. He will never love me the same way.
And I realize, as I fight this battle, he is losing too. He is losing the lives of the people who he holds so dear. Every battle we fight, another life is lost. And those glimpses I see of him is heartwrentching. His smile is now forced, holding in the pain as another scream is heard from his dying soldiers. The soldiers my men and I killed.
It took so many years, but I finally realize that while there is a proclaimed victor and a loser, no one truly wins. All sides lose something important to them.
And yet, we still fight. It is a fact of life that war must happen in order for us to all live and to progress.
But it does not change in any way the fact of war... war can make one lose himself. War is nothing but a tragedy that we all must face.
-Arthur Kirkland
United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland
