Misunderstood
Nobody ever understood his motives. They thought him to be a insane, unstable nation. True, he did express traits from both categories, but that was never his fault. He was raised like that, raised by the bitter, unforgiving tundra that was his home. He had never known the loving touch of a guardian or parental figure, he had always lived alone, fending for only had his two sisters to lean against for comfort. They were named Belarus and Ukraine. But they never smiled, never showed genuine happiness near him. Sometimes he thought he was burdening them. He must have robbed them of so much positive emotions... He was, after all, a pester some weed in a world of glorious sunflowers. They all flowered beautifully, and the sun shone on their yellow petals. And as much as he tried, vainly reaching for that life-giving sun light, nothing ever made him bloom. He tried to cut them out of his way, removing all his obstacles, but it never brought him happiness. Others looked at him with contempt and disgust, with he understood. He was only a weed after all. Sometimes, Russia dreamed of a brighter world. One in which he could gleefully stride through a warm field of golden sunflowers. One in which his sisters grinned and embraced him, and he cried tears of joy. It seemed to be a perfect world, warm and kind, but as always, the harsh, cold world woke him from his fantasy. This fantasies filled his head with such hope, but eventually, after having that hope dashed one too many times, he could no longer even hope to have hope. Those dreams became little more then futile lies, promises that will never be fulfilled. He began to despise them, blaming their unrealistic perfection for his eternal grief. But little did he know, he needed them more then he thought. It was those reticular dreams that helped him keep his hold on his dwindling sanity. The negative emotions that followed such a hopeful dream, only to be realized was false, ate away at his weak heart. They gnawed at him until he was eventually smothered by them. He could not remember the last time he truly smiled. He did not know why the other nations were so very frightened of him. All he wanted was companions, but everyone he ever associated with left him. He used to live with his sisters, and the three Baltic's, but they all left him alone. Sometimes they fell asleep too. They fell asleep and strangely, never woke up. All he wanted was somebody that he could smile and laugh with. Somebody go hold his hand when he got lonely, and somebody who would comfort him in his occasional times of need. A person to be there, and to care. Not to be forced, but to want to be there. Somebody who enjoyed his presence. Russia simply sighed and brushed his silver hair back from his face with a gloved hand. That would never happen... He thought sullenly, What did I ever do wrong? I have done my best to please them all... I have become strong... How am I so misunderstood...