The Hetalia Chronicles:Pains of the Nations
America
He was such a lonely hero, staring down at his city with sad eyes ready to drop. He climbed to the top of The Empire State Building again. Just so he can stare at his city. The light burned bright for him. This is where his heart was. New York City was the center of the world at this point. He made no friend getting to this point.
America wasn't liked by his Allies. He was put up with. Since he was the world power they couldn't possibly be on his bad side. If they were, they would be drained to a point of extinction. They resent him, they envy him, they hate him, Most of all, they fear him.
Such raw power lies in his hands. He has one of the world's biggest weapons. He has knowledge of all their languages. He has control over the world's fate. He has the strongest army in the world. And hes so young. It's only been 236 year since he gained independence. He has already been through a civil war and two world wars. Being the turning point in each.
He is the free world. He is an empire in his own way. He fought for his title. He is so powerful and strong. Even now. In his darkest days.
America is going to be the next Rome. He knows that empires only stay in power for about 200 years. His clock was ticking and mid night was approaching quickly.
The fairy tale of America was slowly depleting. They pressure him to keep up the world and his own people. All the blame for the world's problems is placed on his shoulders. They laugh at him for his ways even though it was their influence, mocking, and insults that make him like this. He is a melting pot of everyone which may have brought his country together before but is now tearing him apart.
He asked China for help. He needed cheap goods so he could focus on other things but that only worsened his economy and debt. Help didn't come cheap even though he offered his for free. He was a giver, not a taker and the world just kept taking. Now when he tries to take, it's called a debt.
America felt his tears fall. He looked down at the people walking down below. The looked like ants. He then wonders what it would feel like to jump. And what would happen if he did. As a country he could not die. But what would it feel like to be dead for only a moment then wake up in the Whitehouse perfectly fine. He has been shot before. In the head. That's what happened then. He woke up with John Adams next to him. He remembers how peaceful the seconds in between were. It was silent and serine. Cooling came over him. He just floated about until he was dragged back into his body and forced to open his eyes. The voices and the pressure came flooding back.
The voices torment him more than everything else. He can hear all the opinions and voices throughout his country. People cheering for gay marriage. People shunning abortion. He sees visions of people's lives as well. Those are his dreams. He'll see weddings, child births, fights, and abuse, break ups, deaths. It's maddening. He doesn't doubt other countries see it. He just believes he sees and hears it more.
Sometimes he wishes he never separated from England. Then he would be the world greatest empire. He wouldn't have this weight. He'd be a colony. He'd have brothers and sisters he could have fun with. He wouldn't have the entire world watching his every move. He could go to England when he had his nightmares. He could let England crash as hard as he is about to.
The wind blew through his blonde hair, causing a chill to run down his spine. He was only had his bomber jacket to protect him from the elements. Which wasn't that bad. It was only fall. He was used to his own frigid winters from when he stayed in Alaska.
As he felt his feel dangle off America curled his upper body in. Hes had a fear of falling since 9/11. If he even falls down a single step the two large scars on his back burned as if it was the day the appeared. In fact, all his scars stung. He had countless ones. Whenever one was provoked so were the others. The one across his heart from the revolutionary war. The one down the middle of his chest from the civil war. All the ones from adding new states and territories. His body was so worn and sliced it ached with little irritation.
America is scared. He feels his energy draining every day. He throws up constantly. He shakes randomly and when something goes wrong he coughs up blood.
He stood up from his spot, wobbling a bit. The ground looked so close. He was compelled and frightened. Two forces screamed in his head louder than all the minor voices. One of a country who can feel his skin start to prickle. The other being a helpless human who just wants it to be over. To feel no more. To hear no voices other than his own. A human who just wants to be sane.
Alfred's breath caught in his throat. All it took was one jump and he would fly. Alfred Jones could soar over the city of lights and give them a show that they would never forget. The admission was free and all you had to do was pass by the empire state building. He be lost for moment. Maybe, if he was lucky, his human body would take it's time to come back. He'd be recovering from his act for months so his soul could be weightless in the never ending blackness of the void countries go for their moments of peace.
Alfred's blue eyes gazed up at the stars. The infinitely beautiful balls of gas that have been around longer than him. Refreshing he thought. It was hard to find things that surpassed him. Even if he was young.
"I'll see you soon old friends." He whispered to the things that have always been there, always listened, and will last longer than he.
His knees bent and his arms where out like an eagles. As his legs straightened he felt as if he was his eagle. Put on a pedestal not deserved, looking down on the ants below, and majestic until proven cruel. There is one difference. And eagle can fly.
His eyes cracked open. Around him were the people who cared. Obama and England. His bed in the Whitehouse was the same. He moved. His body was the same. Everything was the same except for one thing.
America looked down at his wrist. There, was a brand new scar. One he had never seen. It was jagged and fresh. It marked that he jumped.
It marked the day he tried to get out of his cursed life.
GODDAMNIT. WHY AM I SO DRESSING!? MEH MEEEEEH! This is what I do when I'm bored! Write depressing shit! And about my baby too! Aw why!? Why Eighthnote why!? It hurts! It hurtsssss!
Anywho, so this is what I do instead of updating. Great eh? I'm so sorry about late everything. Band+hardest/best teacher in the school=NO UPDATES! Well I plan to break that now so I'll be working on your favorites soon! Twisted reality should be next…. YAY!