Dear...Journal. That's what I'll call you. Because boys don't write diaries. Diaries are for girls. Boys write Captain logs and Travel journals. But never diaries.
Not that there's anything wrong with diaries. They're just girly. And stuff.
A-Anyways! Austria told me I looked a little frustrated so he gave me this. To vent apparently. Since I can't use music as an outlet, not like him, he figured this was the next best thing. Which is stupid, really. Because I'm not frustrated. Really. I'm just mad that Italy doesn't want to come with me.
Why doesn't she want to come with me?
Yesterday, I saw her painting. She looked so pretty, under the sun like that.
I like her. I really like her.
I could've stood there all day. Watching her paint. But then Switzerland caught me. He was yelling all kinds of stuff about not keeping my house in order. But-But, I couldn't leave Italy. She is-She is very important.
So I told him that and then I barrelled towards Italy. I guess I might've scared her cause then she started crying and ran away.
Am I really that frightening? Is that why she doesn't come with me?
I'll just have to try harder then. Next time, for sure! I'll-I'll use force if I have to. Anything to get Italy. Anything.
Not that you'll know anything about it. I don't need a journal, so I won't be writing again. Though it would be a waste to throw you away...I'll just store you somewhere. Maybe I'll write about the lands I conquer or something...But definitely not about my personal life. Forget what Austria said. I am not frustrated.