Depressed Hetalia/Worst Nightmares

Who Am I?

CANADA'S NIGHTMARE

Maybe Canada was sick of them forgetting him. Maybe he was tired of having to tell them he was Canada. His world was darkness; nobody loved him, nobody remembered him, nobody needed him. He needed someone to be there. To see him. To be aware of his presence.

But there was nobody.

Just people who pushed him out of the way, brushed him off, or didn't see him altogether. So nobody knew.

About the cuts. Scars. Faded lines of the past, the present, the future. He knew nobody would notice him.

"Worthless," he whispered to himself, slashing a shallow cut into his right wrist. Still, nobody at the meeting noticed. "Useless," he whispered, digging the blade deeper. Still, nobody cared. "Pathetic," he whispered, yanking the bloody knife out of his wrist, then starting all over again on his left arm. "Why live?" he asked himself, twisting the blade around inside his skin. It was searing pain, but...who cared? "You'll just die alone and unwanted, the way it is now." he pulled the blade away, and wiped the blood on his sweater. Flipping his knife closed and pocketing it, he sat at the end of the table, sleeves rolled up, blood soaking through the thick fabric and dripping onto the floor.

He stood from the table, and of course nobody noticed him. "Would anybody notice if I was really gone?" He asked aloud, while Germany was speaking. "Would anyone care if I was to never come back?"

He left the room, leaving the chatter of everyone behind. There was one thought on his mind: nobody would care. Just...go. Running to the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror. Instead of the sunshiny blonde hair he used to have combed neatly down, there was a greasy mop of grimy, brown-blonde hair. Replacing his usual half grin was a sad, humorless line. Instead of happy blue eyes, grey, depressed ones took their place. Instead of Kumajiro in his arms, he held a knife at his side. The image of his old self was beginning to fade in his mind, being replaced with the reality of what he'd become.

"N-no...," he whispered, trying to remember his old self as the image vanished from his thoughts and memory. "Please.. come back...,"

Canada was beginning to forget himself...