Small Things Hurt Most

Useless

Sealand caught a sob in the back of his throat as he scrambled to lock the bathroom door, then turning to look at himself in the mirror. 

It isn't fair. It just isn't fair. We never asked to be personified! But we just get  blamed for everything... either that or ignored completely,  he thought coldly to himself. 

Sealand took a moment to really look at his reflection. At his red, puffy eyes, his messy hair, even his scarf that had come undone from his neck. Looking distainfuly at it, Sealand ripped it from his neck and tossed the cloth to the floor. He once again had to strain not to just scream.

"Just get out, Sealand." 

"What do you think you're doing? You're not even a country!"

"It's never going to happen, Sealand."

"Being a county isn't all fun and games. You have no idea!"

Sealand huffed the most at the last one. It was something the others said often- that it wasn't all fun. Of coarse he knew that. He looked twelve, so what? America looked eighteen and no one said anything to him. 

Sealand had grown up with soldiers, sailors, war veterans... he knew about the world. He wasn't some kid in need of protecting.

But that's exactly what I am, aren't I? I'm useless. I can't even protect what I was supposed to protect... England. I'm a war fort. What kind of fort can't even hold its own?

Useless. Worthless. Sealand looked at himself in hate, struggling out of his shorts, cringing as the micronation let his eyes settle on his legs as his shorts hit the floor. They were crisscrossed with lines. Most of them were old and faded, memories of the past. But some were still red, painful reminders of now.

Sealand let his hand graze some of the newer lines. They still stung- and he hated it. He hated the pain. He wanted to run to Sweden or any Nordic and ask them to fix it, like when he scraped his knee or got a paper cut.

No, I can't.  Sealand reminded himself. They would be disappointed in me... more than they already are, anyway. Sealand growled at himself in the mirror.

Then he snapped. He pushes open the drawer under the sink, where the towels were kept, and pushed his own aside until he found what he was looking for. He had found it not to long ago- just when he had thought he was done. That he would never do it again. Sealand held the evil thing in his hand, looking at it as it glinted.

"Just get out."

Cut.

"You're so naive."

Cut.

"Just a useless fort."

Cut.

Cut.

Soon Sealand could watch as beads of blood ran down his thighs. The micronation Just barely avoided yelping in pain, instead took a washcloth from the cabinet and soaked it in cold water. He didn't really want to, cleaning cuts always seemed to hurt more than the cuts themselves. But no one could know.

Sealand quickly cleaned the new cuts, washed the cloths, hid the razor and limped back into his room. As soon as he had payed down and covered himself, his door cracked open.

"Night, Seal'nd," he neared Sweden mumble and shut the door. He loved Sweden. It's why they couldn't know.

The micronation let himself fall asleep- it was easier than fighting anymore.