Small Things Hurt Most

Panic

Sealand still had that horrible feeling when he walked into the hotel room. That bitter, sinking feeling that he couldn't seem to shake. That was just there without a purpose.

And he hated it.

Slipping the key card into his pocket, he walked to his room and locked the door. Sitting on his bed, he layed back. Sealand liked the quiet. It was dark in the room, more calming than anywhere he had been in a while. It was just him. No one to have to talk to, no one nagging, no one snapping at him.

No one saying he couldn't.

Saying he would never be a country. That he was a stupid little kid. He was technically twelve, yeah, but he was still well over sixty. 

Sealand let his eyes close.

He saw all those jerk countries. England was a huge one. That jerk had left him. For years. He didn't even care enough to say a proper bye.

He also saw America. They never really spoke that much, but when they did, America always seemed distracted. Never really paying attention to him. 

He saw the Nordics. Norway was so obsessed with Iceland, but never him. He didn't want some stupid micronation as a little brother. Iceland acted like he didn't even exist. But at least he won't be embarrassed now, right? Denmark. That nation was fun. But that was his problem, Sealand thought bitterly. I'm just a naive kid that needs playing with.

Then there was Sweden and Finland. Even Sealand knew they tried their best. But sometimes it was just so suffocating. So suffocating that he felt he couldn't breathe, that if he stepped out of line what he lose what he had just now got.

Family.

Sealand felt his breath quicken. It just wasn't fair. What had he ever done to them? Existed? It's not like he could control that! His heart began to race as more poisonous ideas made their way to his head. He didn't want to lose his family. He couldn't. Not now that he finally found someone!

Sealand wished he could just fade away at that moment. He was scared, and he shook with fear as he pulled his sheets and pillows closer to him. He didn't want to be there. He was fine alone, but he would have to come out eventually.

 They would make fun of him again, he knew it. "Stop it... stop it,stop it,stop it!" He cried at no one in particular. 

You're alone, and deserve to be.

You're an old fort, you don't even have land... how are you even alive?

England abandoned you, and so will the Nordics. It's just a matter of time!

Sealand felt tears stream down his face. But he didn't want to cry. Countries didn't cry, at least strong ones didn't. But he was weak. Not strong. Before long he was gasping for breath. As the tears kept coming, so did the shallow breaths. Sealand couldn't catch his breath, and didn't know if he even wanted to.

Maybe I'll pass out...

Then Sealand heard a loud knocking on his door.

Iceland, as a country, had seen and heard his fair share of sad things. Fear, panic, hyperventilating, crying... but he especially hated to see kids cry. One because they were kids, two because he could never help. No matter what he did, his efforts never helped calm them down. Leave that to Sweden or Finland, the natural born nurtures.

Too bad neither of them were there.