Hetalia Randomness

Suicide Notes of My OC's

Time to get serious here. I mean, Hetalia is like history or whatever, right? And history has tragedies, sad stuff, serious things, so my Hetalia book thing has to have them too.

Kayakland:

You all knew how much I loved to kayak - but I always seemed to insult the rowers and canoers. They have a life too. They have bad things happening in their lives and all I do is hate them. What kind of a person am I? Certainly not the kind you would want to have around. It's a good thing I'm leaving then.

Alberta:

So you actually took the time to read this note, whoever you are? Thank you. Not many people do that, actually. They're just like, "Ooh, a note." Then they open the note. "From Alberta. Oh, never mind, I'll throw it out." What have I ever done to them? What have I ever done to you. I know this is probably Canada. Just so you know Matthew, I have some questions for you.

HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? I never did anything to you and you do this to me as if you don't even care about me. Of course you don't. You're just having sympathy for the territories and Newfoundland because their lives are worse than mine. I'd rather live in poverty and darkness though, like they do, than live like this.

You praise me for my good work, right? No...you don't. Apparently, I have excellent health care. But that isn't my doing, nope. It's the doing of the government of Canada. Get it? Yeah. You do. Wait... Nope. My government and I can save everyone in the universe's ass and guess what the world would say?

No one would say: "My thanks to Alberta for saving me." They wouldn't even say, "Thanks, Alberta." No, they would say Canada. Just because I am only a province doesn't mean that all the good things I do are done by you. You know what? You've probably had enough of this letter. You've had enough of me too, right? Oh well. You can finally thank me now. Thank you for leaving, Alberta.

You're welcome.

Manitoba:

Shuffle away and don't come back. Walk away shuddering. Scream in terror whenever I come around the block. Whatever. Like I care. I mean, it's not like a scary guy has feelings too, right? After all, his only emotion is anger.

I'm not the person you fear.

Please, give me one more chance. I'll be a nice, friendlier guy. I mean, I am a friendly guy. I am Manitoba the Friendly.

Or, I was, anyways.

Now I'm Manitoba the Dead.

Saskatchewan:

A friendly person who lives on a farm nearby a town where his two brothers live. A person who enjoys milking the cows and trimming the weeds. You would have thought, well, someone has the ideal life, right? Wrong.

This person used to have a brother - North, I'll call him. North and him were the best of friends, until the war.

Now he's gone forever.

And, Canada, you never did anything about it. You never said, "Sorry for your loss." or anything. You never acknowledged me for all I've done for you - I'd much rather live in Saskatoon, than on the farm where I currently reside, but apparently, I'm a farmer more than an economic place.

You were never the nation people often portay. They think you're nice, and kind, and you treat the provinces and territories all equally. Which you do. Except for me. All my life, you just addressed me as one thing: him. Not Saskatchewan, not even "The farmer" or "a prairie." Not even "That guy."

I was going to tell you this in person, but Manitoba and I were both at your door, waiting. I was waiting for a very long time. You wanna know why? Manitoba and I were standing there, and you welcomed us in. But when I began to enter, you pushed me back. And you said, "Stay here and wait."

I've been waiting too long.

I think I'll just leave now.

Leave the earth.

And, no, I won't come back. I've done that too much.

Merritt Island

I'm just an overlooked island in which countless fights break out. Why are you fighting with me? Why do you hate me so much? Is it really that hard to ask you to just be my friend? Of course it is. I'm just an island. Why would I need friends? I'm too little.

I'm a person, you know.

Did you know that I actually existed? No. Probably not. You know what Alfred said one day? He said: "Merritt Island is not transparent. She is not invisible." This filled me with hope, but then, it was crushed: "You can't see her because she's not there." Of course I'm not. Florida is. Florida and America. But not me.

And you know what?

Right now, you can't find me on the map. You know why? Because I'm gone.