Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Another day at school. Another day of obsessing over grades, perfect by anyone's measures but mine. At least that's what I've been told. "You're grades are great." "What do you mean they aren't good enough? They're fantastic. You're just being a perfectionist again. Who cares about their grades that much? School doesn't matter." but, it does to me. This was just another day full of stress. Maybe I should end it then? If I end it I won't have to worry about the deadlines and every percent lost. I won't have to scream at myself for being so stupid. Asking myself why I couldn't figure out that one thing that kept me from the perfect grade that I long for. There's no such thing as perfect, my ass. Of course there is, otherwise there'd be no meaning to getting a full, whole, perfect mark. I need it. Or else it was all for nothing. The past twelve years, the sleepless nights it would have meant nothing. All that studying. If that meant nothing then is all I've strived towards nothing as well? You are what you do. Then I am nothing. Things that don't serve a purpose should just disappear.'
'Shall I disappear? I don't know if I have the courage for it. I don't want to cut, and yet I do. But, I hate long sleeves. That's such a stupid reason for not cutting, for refusing to do something. It's silly. But, that will stay my answer for myself of why I haven't cut into my skin yet. I'll keep it. I want to feel the flesh under whatever blade I find to do the job part away from each other slowly and start to hurt, sting and make me want to stop. I want to feel like I'm brave in some way to keep going after I start to cry from the pain. I want to feel brave like that. I want to know that I can endure any hardship that comes my way. Being able to control the pain I feel will give me an edge, and advantage to others that can't control their pain. I could master what I feel by seeing my blood seep down my arm in a dark red flood to drip to the floor and cover it. My blood smoothly flowing in trails like veins on the outside of my skin instead of inside and contained. I don't want to feel contained anymore.'
'But, would it hurt? Even though I want to conquer my pain I don't want to feel it. I want to be painless. I want to get the reward without any hard work. I'm disgusting that's just lazy. I can't believe I keep refusing to cut and at the same time refusing my own body its desire to do something, anything, dangerous to feel alive. But, even arguing like this to myself I'm still afraid to get hurt.'
'I'm mostly afraid that it will hurt and not give me the relief I want to feel from doing it and that I've heard others feel from cutting themselves. That it will just be a nightmare. It would be just like me to be the odd one left out, like always. The only one to not feel relief. Of course it would happen to me. The only thing cutting would do would be to leave me with big, permanent, and painfully obvious scars that would just show others that all I really deserve is their pity. I don't anyone's pity. I want myself. I just want to be able to feel joy, or any feeling really. Anything would be fine, except for more pain. So I guess cutting is out of the question then. Cutting would only cause pain. Cutting would be a mistake I couldn't ever fix. And I hate mistakes. I could never get rid of it. So, I guess I won't then.'
The school bell rings through the hallways. Students flood them, rushing out of classrooms on their way to the next one, hurrying against the short timer of the five minute breaks between classes. No one wants to be late.
'It's amazing how much time you have to think in a place dedicated to making you do and think about what they want the entire time. My grades aren't even dropping at all. It's barely even distracting me.'