America likes to be a bit sad sometimes.
Sometimes he likes to think about all the times he messed up and dream about how it would be if he was just... Better. A better version of himself, a better him, he wants to change so badly, he wants to just... Live up to every expectation, he wants to be the meaning of perfection, but it never happens, and it hurts when the fact dawns on him.
But then he realizes nobody else can be perfect either, so he places back that lovely fake smile- but don't let that fool you! That smile that's more golden than his hair, that seems more pure than those blue eyes that can rival all the oceans combined together- don't. It's just a shell of what's inside the treasure chest we call 'Alfred'.
Alfred is his human name, but he never goes by it anymore, he doesn't even think of himself as anywhere near humane.
Besides, nobody else calls him it anyways, because nations only call one another by so when they're close, friends, as they say, but Al- America?
He doesn't have friends.
Sure, perhaps Ki- Japan (he really needs to remember to stop calling him Kiku) could've been considered one, but it all disappeared when he hurt Hawaii, his sweet little boy, his son, his golden ray of sunshine. He remembers the pain in his leg, but it could never match the pain in his heart from the screaming of his young state. Of course, Hawaii reborned into a new person, but yet Alfred couldn't help but think of his little boy that once giggled quietly, and talked as if the moon hid itself away somewhere in his body- mysterious yet so majestic.
England lost all his rights to be anywhere close to a friend ever since those incidents years ago. America will laugh and pretend that it never even bothered him, but it did... It really did, and he thinks he's pathetic for holding those grudges, but all that self-pity turns into hatred when he remembers how that poor excuse for a father turned his own brother against him.
Canada... His once brother, now nothing but dirt to him. America will always notice him, but he pretends not to. Matthew doesn't deserve anything from him, ever since burning his other son. Washington D.C was so young, and went away so quickly, as personifications of cities die even more easily than humans, which is why America used to be so protective of him.
He never saw D.C again.
Prussia? America laughed at the thought of Prussia ever being close to him more than just a drinking partner. No matter how much they tried, they could never be friends, but believe him when he says he tried, he really did, and he wished he could change his personality to just be someone that could blend with anyone.
Denmark was sweet, and more of a brother than Canada could ever be, but it just... Can't. Won't. It wasn't like they wouldn't make good friends, it's just that by this point, America can't let anyone near him anymore.
His true friends were dead.
He always enjoyed a good laugh with Hamilton and his friends, and his heart would flutter away like dust at the thought of Philip. George Washington was really a great man, along with most of his other presidents, they were all like family to him, and he still can't get over the fact that they all had to die.
Davie, the little boy that loved blue flowers to an old man wrinkly and with Death knocking at his door. Alfred wiped away a tear from his eye at the thought of those dark blue eyes just shades away from his own, and the slicked back hair that reminded him just a bit of Germany, but yet with an innocent personality that had a hint of Italy, the mind that had a sprinkle of England and France, and the intelligence like China, but the way he acted so immature like South Korea and... Himself?
That was Davie. A little bit of everyone he once considered friends.
America sobbed as another choked cry left his throat- thank God that his children left early to go back to their own homes, but yet America could not help the horrible feeling everytime they left.
It reminded him too much of those failed colonies.
"Vee~ those are really nice drawings, America!" Italy praised, slinging an arm around America's shoulder. America looked up at the clock, the meeting was just ending.
"Who are those of?" Germany asked, a bit curious.
America looked down, not realizing he's been drawing Davie, George Washington, Fort Caroline, Ajacan, and Roanoke, and the beginning sketches of a few others he remembered. He stopped tears from exiting his eyes as he remembered how beautiful they were, especially Fort Carloine, Ajacan, and Roanoke. They were his little sisters, he was supposed to protect them, and he failed. So horribly.
"America, are you alright?" England asked with fake concern.
America stopped himself from glaring at him, then pretended to check the time again, "Oh! Look, we should really be getting back home, right? Haha, sorry, these- th... They're not important, really, just doodles, I guess. Hey, I have, um, a meeting with someone else soon, so bye!" He grabbed all his stuff and ran out the door.
If only he knew what chaos that would've caused for him.
okay, so a little short, but I was listening to Hamilton, got sad, and wanted to write something sad. Then I was like, "wait why not just torture america again :O"
I had a little headcanon that America was like BFFs with his failed colonies, and got super upset when they all died, but didn't realize they were his colonies until a little while later. Because he knew they were like him, he just didn't know about all the other stuff until later because England never explained the shit to him.