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Post by Russia - Ivan Braginsky on May 24, 2015 23:58:37 GMT -5
October 30, 1962
Dear Journal,
Is it selfish to want something all to yourself? I should not ask such a silly question because I already know the answer.
I recently returned from China, and once again, I seem to have disappointed him in one fashion or another. I do not understand. I once looked upon Yao with such high regards. He held such strength and control, and while I spied on him from Siberia, I knew he knew of my presence none the less. When I officially met the old wise nation, I had felt such great pride. It filled my form with such hope that possibly one day I might be as great as China. Is it arrogant to assume I had accomplished such a task? I love Yao. I will always love Yao. He holds such beauty and knowledge without even speaking a word, but how can such a great nation denounce my action and go forward with such foolish motions?
He yelled at me today, journal. I kissed him as I have often done, enjoying the taste of his lips, and yet after our mouths parted, he yelled. He demanded my actions in India. A part of the world I have no interest in participating, and yet he required it of me. I should not have snapped back. I should have been kinder in my response, but after our building relationship, I thought...I thought...we might be pass mixing political with our own personal relationship. Is it foolish of me? I want Yao all to myself. It is not the country I desire, but the person. I love him so deeply, but I fear that it is not the same. Is he toying with my emotions? Am I the only one that feel the loud thumps in my chest, and the hot flush on my cheek. He makes me love him, and then he denies my advice, as if I am the same child he met so long ago. I tried so hard to grow for him, but he continuously dismisses me.
I do not want our friendship to end. I do not wish it to ever end. He is my true ally. His touch reminds me of honey on a warm day. I wish to have it for eternity. I wish I could selfishly disregard my people institution and merely hold the man in bed forever, but it's there. The constant distrust.
Even after we fought, journal, I found myself in his bed, my arms wrapped around his bare form, holding him close. I could feel his chest moving with each breath, I could feel how close he was to me....but in reality, I had never felt as further apart.
I fear I will lose him.
No, I know I will lose him.
And it breaks my heart.
Sincerely,
Ivan
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MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS Playing with code templates at GS, so had to do this. XD Expect these not to go in chronological order. |
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Post by Russia - Ivan Braginsky on May 25, 2015 1:59:26 GMT -5
April 4, 1867
Dear Journal,
I did not believe happiness as I currently feel could ever exist. I am still in disbelief that life could bring about such wonderful feelings. I have told you often of the young American boy I met over a century ago when he was but a mere colony. He makes me feel young again and has brought warmth into my cold heart I thought frozened over years ago. I have watched him face each struggle, and while I worry, worry more then I should, I know that he will defeat each challenge with ease.
The others thought I was foolish for denying British aid and holding neutrality during their war, but I knew when I first set sight on those sky blue eyes that the young boy would win. Is it because I saw so much of myself in those eyes? Nyet, it was something different. A sense of freedom that could not be so easily contained no matter how much you might want it. Oh, how I want it for myself, to hold and have such freedom forever, but I do not dare, I am far too afraid that if I tried to capture it, him, I might lose that defiant beautiful light in his eyes.
Alfred. His name is Alfred, and even though I want him, I never want to get in the way of his dreams and desires. I only want to help him and to be by his side. He is so kind, journal, so sweet, and funny, and he makes me smile. I cannot be around him without smiling. We have spent many nights in his great plains, staring at the stars above, discussing what it might be like to travel among the stars. He speaks confidence when he talks about traveling up there, and when he states that we will travel together to the stars, I find myself believing him. We will one day reach the stars.
His Civil War had caused him hardship, and it hurt to see him so torn, but the Alfred I knew, the one I have grown to care for so deeply resided there. I had to help, had to go to him and help him in any way I might. I am so happy it has ended, and while I knew he would win, I never stopped worrying. My bright sunshine, I never wish for it to dim.
I am a fool for feeling so happy. I know it to be true. I have been hurt too often in the past. I have allowed others to play with my feelings as if they are a game. I know what such vulnerability can bring upon a nation like myself, but I somehow cannot stop myself from diving deeper. I have written him far too many letters, letters asking him of his growth, of how he is adjusting to the responsibilities, how the southern states have returned, and even silly questions like whether a shark would defeat a bear if both had the ability to traverse on land and water. It is so easy to talk to him. I need to stop believing he might betray me, but it constantly lingers in the back of my mind.
Nyet, I am too happy.
I recently returned from America, and took Alfred to my own piece of land within the New World. The cool brisk air, enchanting skyline, and large mountain peaks are addicting. The snow still lingered on the peaks, but we went on a hike on one of my favorite trails. We made it a race, and somehow ended up running up the entire mountain, playfully tripping one another along each turn within the trees. (I let him win.) How could I not? I love that confident smile he gets when he successfully beats me. We reached the top of the mountain, and I heard his laugh, his carefree laugh I had not heard since before the Civil War, and it all became clear.
I am in love with Alfred F. Jones.
It should not come to a surprise to you journal. As I read through some of my past entries, I see the feelings were always there, lingering underneath the surface, from the first time we kiss to the first personal outing, it always seemed to be there.
Yet in the mountains, with the sun setting behind his corn stalk blond hair, and bright determined eyes, it all clicked. Alfred made me happy beyond physical desires. He made me laugh and share personal details I did not share with my own sisters. The reason why…
I love you, Alfred F. Jones.
I said those words to them on the mountain in Alaska, a day before I decided to sell the beauty surrounding to the man they truly belonged with, to the man who could truly appreciate them for their worth.
What surprised me more, journal….
He said the words back.
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MADE BY ★MEULK OF GS |
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