America is a large, friendly dog in a very small room. Every time it wags its tail, it knocks over a chair. —Arnold Toynbee
Hello; I'm a contradiction.
I do the wrong things. I do the right things that turn out wrong. I let everyone down. I build people up only to make them fall. I break long-standing ties of trust with one blow and shatter child-like innocence in mere seconds. I hide things I'd rather not let anyone know. I get lost. I stray from the beaten path to make my own course, chopping down anything and anyone that gets in my way. I encourage everyone to stay on track while I'm tearing apart the train, piece by piece. I tell people that everything is fine even when I can see things falling apart at the seams. I am completely incapable of asking for direction. I don't know how to ask the right questions, let alone what kind of answers I want.
What are answers really worth, anyway? In the long run, what good are they? Why bother knowing anything if you're just going to pass on and not need it?
I know everything though. I have to. I need to. It's impossible for me not to. My people's knowledge and questions and answers are my knowledge and questions and answers. I know what they all think want do pray love hate crave; I always have and I always will. I just don't see a need for any of it. Odd? Yes. No. Maybe? I don't know.
I also couldn't tell you what I think want do pray love hate crave. I just don't know.
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I'm a hero; I'm terrified.
I don't suppose this ties in with me being a contradiction, does it? Hero's aren't supposed to be terrified, are they? Maybe I'm really not a hero after all.
Does it look like I'm wearing a cape? No. How about a giant target on my chest? Nope. And I seriously doubt I can pull off tights, no matter how good my ass may or may not be.
(I apparently can't take anything seriously either. My subconscious is even making jokes to try to cover up my own thoughts. Funny, isn't it; how I use humor as my default defense mechanism? I'm just hiding my terror behind a well-made mask of smiles and laughter. How's that for irony?)
I'm scared of a lot of things though. Of the past coming back to bite me in the ass, of hatred, or conformity, of others opinions of me, of how I appear to them; does that mean I'm superficial too? Because I need to have everyone like me, I mean.
I'm terrified of what lays beyond, of what lays behind, of what lays hidden past the proverbial shower curtain.
Psycho, much? Yes. No? Maybe. I don't know.
There I go again, making jokes. Can't I just stick to being serious once in my life.
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My name is America and I hurt people.
I do it unknowingly and with all the knowledge that's needed for it to happen purposefully.
I tore England's heart from his chest. I tried to take Canada away simply to make England hurt more. I all but ripped myself in half. I decimated Japan's people; twice, and with no immediate remorse. In a fit of insane, brash terror, I destroyed an entire country by trying to save it. I've had wars and hate and remorse and terror and fear for and because of everyone and there is nothing that can change it. The past is the past and history is history.
We, as countries, can't change what happened. We can't change how people see us. We can't change anything.
I can't change anything. I've never been able to and I never will; no matter how big I talk or how much I try.
I can't hide the shame that comes from trying to fix half the things I wish I could take back. No amount of smiles and laughter can make it better.
What are they worth anyway? Laughter and smiles, that is. They're both just fleeting things that come and go like the tides. Are they tangible at all? Yes? No? Maybe. I don't think it matters.
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I'm the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave; I'm stuck.
I'm stuck and no one knows it because the one thing I'm good at doing is making a mask to hide that I'm hurting and that I can't forget. I can't forget anything. Ever. Given the choice, I'm not sure I would want to though. I wouldn't just be forgetting the bad things like wars and such, I'd lose all the good things that happened.
I can't decide.
I don't want others to know I have problems, you know? Because it will just make them fear for themselves and myself and cause a lot of trouble.
I want them to tell me their troubles though. I want them to share openly and let me help them through it as best I can. I just don't want them knowing my problems.
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Hello World. Listen to me talk meaningless words at your face.
I can argue things into oblivion, support my reasons until I choke on my own words, pile soapbox upon soapbox upon soapbox and preach to an unhearing crowd from my pedestal high above their heads; none of it matters because nothing will come of it. No matter how much time I have to talk, I will never actually say anything.
Long ago, the proverbial cows returned to their non-existent home. Long ago, the sun set on the British Empire. Long ago, that hypothetical blind eye was turned away from the earth, forever blotching out the light.
No words can fix what I have broken. No words can piece back the semblance of sanity, of hope, of love. Those things, those ideas; they're all just illusions brought up by a raving lunatic who tried to explain away the hurt that living a life in this world can harvest. None of them matter because none of them are real.
Does that make me a raving lunatic because I want sanity, hope, and love? Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know?
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I'm American and I'm half-blind.
Not seriously, no, but, sometimes, I wish that I could see through someone else's eyes; to see how they view the world. I've always imagined; only imagined, never asked. I think I'm scared of what I might be told.
I bet Francis' glasses are tinted the colour of roses. I bet Arthur sees through cracked and smudgy lenses. I bet Ivan has white splotches in the corners of his vision. Matthew's left and right sides have got to be different; one rosy pink, the other painfully dull. Ludwig and Gilbert probably have matching sets of shattered glass in loose warped frames. Feliciano probably can't escape the shining sun, even in the dead of the night. Kiku's more than likely colour blind and Yao can only see the past.
Me? I see the worst in people. I can't help it. I see France leaving women in hotel rooms to deal with the aftermath. I see England strangling the freedom out of those smaller than he by shoving his opinions and rules and customs down their throats. I see Russia killing himself in his quest to beat General Winter. I see Canada closing our boarders, cursing Pax Americana for the rest of his days. I see Germany causing another bloody war. I see Italy murdering himself in a completely failed attempt to aid Germany. I see Japan and China taking each other out in a giant Asian free-for-all.
Sometimes, I just want to scream. I want to scream at them all for not knowing, for not seeing, for not caring about what can happen; what will happen if we keep these things up. These things like war and pain and revenge and spite and death and hurt.
But I don't because I will be talking words and nonsense and it's what we've always done, America. Grow up and deal with it.
Am I crazy for wanting peace with everyone? Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know anymore.
What is crazy anyway? Is it just a word? or is it normalcy?
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I'm called America; I'm a hypocrite.
I despise stealing; I don't do it. Ever.
Then why did I build myself on the tombstones of my ancestors, using their blood to quench my thirst? It's their customs that made my roots, their mindset and work that molded me into existence.
It was England that took that existence and made it into something.
He just made it into something that had no regards for the past.
The land was theirs, but it was mine. It was me; but I still feel as if I stole it. I took it and never intended to give it back. I promised them borrowed space and time and I never repaid them.
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Hello. I see others hurt people.
And I do nothing.
There are reasons as to why I started so late. To put it simply, I was terrified. Even as I felt some of my people racing across the border to aid my brother in his part, I couldn't do anything. To this day, I hold to the fact that it wasn't my choice to not join the wars the first chance I got; it was my presidents.
To this day, I and everybody else know that that's a load of bullshit and I need to grow some balls and come up with a better reason.
There's that humor defense again.
Honestly, the only reason I didn't go onto the second was because of the first. I didn't want to be drug in to one of Europe's bloody wars (no jab at my former ruler intended, it's an adjective) but they tricked me. My friends allies brothers companions family tricked me. And lots of people died because of it.
I hate it when they die. England says time will make me get over feeling every single one of them, but it's yet to happen. A part of me dies when one of my people pass on. No matter how it happens, I feel it.
Call me crazy but, it always feels lots worse when they die overseas. Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know.
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I'm called Alfred F. Jones, and I hate games.
I've watched wars from the sidelines. I've witnessed friends, colleagues, family being traded as if they were nothing more than a pawn in a game of chess.
Maybe a piece in a game of Risk is a better comparison.
Someone's always going to win. Someone's always going to lose. And someone's always going to get the bum end of the deal.
Life is just a game.
War is just a game piece in Life. Someone's always going to win; someone's always going to lose, and someone's always going to get the bum end of the deal.
There are no Cats-games in the game of Life. Wanna know why? Because, if neither player wins, doesn't that mean both sides have lost?
It doesn't matter how many pawns, soldiers, people, citizens, young men die between the trenches or under the wheels or in the crashes or by the bullets or during the explosions or from the illnesses; none of them matter as individuals. They represent a whole piece in the great game of Life.
A whole expendable piece in the game of Life.
Is it wrong that I look at each individual as a separate entity and not all my people as a whole? Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know yet.
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I've failed.
I'm supposed to be the hero. I'm supposed to save the world. I'm supposed to be the rock that holds people and steadies them and helps them to survive.
Instead, I crush dreams and leave my post and injure those that I hold closest to my heart.
I've tried to change, but it's been useless. Nothing I can do or say can make this easier for me. There's no way to turn around. There's no way to fix anything. Nothing makes sense and the clarity is gone. I've injured the people I love in the most horrendous ways and when I tried to patch the wounds, I found myself lacking the medical training to do so.
I just don't have the courage to say it out loud. I suppose that can be even more detrimental, seeing as maybe telling will help ease the pain. Maybe it'll just make it worse. I don't even know. I can't even predict.
I suppose you could say I'm forever in a nightmare. Or, perhaps, in a night that can never see the sun.
Yes? No. Maybe. I don't know?
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There isn't a future; I don't believe in it anymore.
How can I, when it's just like the past?
So, bare with me here, please. I wrote this because I felt like delving into a darker side of the happy-go-lucky hero, America. Don't know how well it worked though…
I also wrote it because I wanted to shove a bunch of history in a place where it didn't need to be. xD
It's American history because one; It's an Amerilouge up there; why wouldn't it be his history? And Two; I'm American. From America. (Redundant, much? xD) For the most part, we get 9 parts American history 1 part other "crap" we need to worry about.
Here are the references to history; it's kind of long and ranty, but informative and pretty cut and dry (and hopefully amusing in parts). If you don't want to read it, that's fine. I really don't care. You're obviously already on the internet, so you could find it for yourself, but it is right here so…
"I tore England's heart from his chest."
Revolutionary War (1775-1783)
25,000 U.S. dead
Fairly straight forward. Americans were sick and tired of getting taxed by King George III and revolted. If you've ever read the U.S. Declaration of Independence, you'll know that it's basically just 'Yupp. We want to be free. Here's all the stuff you did wrong. Suck it, loser'. We got a lot of the ideas from French thinkers (i.e. Locke, Montesquieu, Rousseau, ect.)
There was fighting and America had help from France, and America won.
"I tried to take Canada away simply to make England hurt more."
War of 1812 (1812-1815)
20,000 U.S. dead
Generically put, America wanted to expand northward into Canada (which was still a British colony at the time). America was also angry because Britain supported Indians that went against Americas will to expand in general and because of trade restrictions that Britain had because of stuff that was going on in Europe involving France (yet again).
But, if you really look at it, America really didn't want to simply just Manifest Destiny all over Canada's vital regions. We wanted to stop Britain from helping the Indians and the only way we could think to do that was to take Canada. So, "expanding northward" wasn't really the main purpose. It was more of a strategic capture. 'Make them focus here so we can go over there and do crap.'
And we burnt York (Toronto). But the British army made it down to the U.S. capital and burnt down our Government building. Which was then painted white (though, if you think about it, that was a stupid colour for it; what with all the scorch marks and crap) and dubbed the White House.
But, after everything that went on with the War of 1812, two really big things happened. One, America got all buddy-buddy with our northern neighbor, Canada; and two, America's national anthem, The Star-Spangled Banner, came into existence!
"I all but ripped myself in half."
The American Civil War (1861-1865)
625,000 dead;
Union: 364,511; Confederacy: 260,000
Again, in a generic light, most people just say the war was fought because of slavery. Those people are wrong.
The Civil War was about the South throwing a hissy fit.
Let's see, the North (Yankees, Union; whathaveyou) consisted of 24 different states. There were four states that were in the Union but did allow slavery, they were called Border States; Delaware, Maryland, Kentucky, and Missouri.
Where as the South (Rebels, Confederacy) had 11 states.
Though every state had a lot of trouble fighting, the Border States had some of the worst times because if any other states were to meet in battle, that'd be fine because 'you're not fighting against your own state.' But if you fought for a Border State, you could end up fighting someone that was from another part of your homeland.
Interesting fact: You can usually tell if someone was educated in the South or the North of the United States by striking up a conversation with them about the Civil War. Why? Because a lot of the battles have dual names! Why? Because the North named their battles after natural objects near the battle (i.e. streams, mountains, rivers, ect.) and the South named most of their battles after man made things (i.e. towns, railways, inns, ect.).
Not all battles had double names, though. Gettysburg, which is considered one of the turning points in the war and the bloodiest, is an example of a single-name battle. It's in southern Pennsylvania and was pretty key in everything turning out how it did in the end.
"I decimated Japan's people; twice, and with no immediate remorse."
World War II (1939-1945)
(Narrower still, August 6th and 9th, 1945)
405,399 U.S. dead (in the whole war)
This refers to America's Atomic bombing of two Japanese cities; Hiroshima and Nagasaki, respectfully. 'Little Boy' went first and 'Fat Man' was second. To date, they are the only nuclear weapons ever used in a war. So, America kinda still looks like a jackass for it, but only because no one else has stooped to that level of desperation yet.
(So there are probably other reasons why the country of America still looks like a jackass, but we'll forget those for right now, kay?)
Anyway, it all started with a little something called the Manhattan Project. It was a correlation between the U.S., UK, and Canada to create a nuclear weapon. No, it had nothing to do with New York City, let alone the East Coast. The Manhattan Project was based in three sites; one in Washington State, one in Tennessee, and one in New Mexico. We got a lot of info from a man named Einstein (you know, the E=MC^2 guy) and he said Germany might make nuclear weapons, so we jumped right on the train to get them finished.
We won.
Russia wasn't far behind.
Well anyway; we warned Japan in advance and the president was all 'Oh…should we? Last resort? Yes!'. Well, last resort came and the bombs were dropped. I believe there is footage somewhere from one of the plans that dropped one of the bombs; I have no clue where, but my mind is telling me I've seen it…
It caused serious amounts of damage, and all this was before we realized that yes, the bomb was going to do lots of immediate, physical damage, but did you know there are loads of after effects on the land and people who survived the explosion?
"In a fit of insane, brash terror, I destroyed an entire country by trying to save it."
The Vietnam War (1955-1975)
58,209 U.S. dead
Basically, that war was America vs. Communism. And, sadly for my country, our Allies in that war was anyone that happened to be against Communism. It honestly didn't matter who you were as long as you hated Communists.
We were mostly afraid of the Domino Effect. The Domino Effect is that if one country fell to Communism, then the next would and the next and next and so on and so forth until everyone in the whole world is Communist. So, China had just gone Communist and America was really freaking out and stuff.
Anyway, by the end of the war, it was shown that America basically did nothing. Like seriously. We went there to stop the spread of Communism into South Vietnam and, in the end, SVN became Communist.
(And in a terrible way too. We talked peace - the Paris Peace Accord (1975) and the North was all, 'yeah we just want a voice'. Well, the U.S. said we'd take out our troops and the day after we left, Saigon (the capital of SVN) was taken by NVN. (We left on April 29, 1975. Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City) fell on the 30th.)
So, yeah. Not Americas shining moment…
It also caused a huge societal rip in America. Like, there was an immense cultural war at this point – huge; because the older generations were all for the war, but the younger generation was against it. It was also the first 'televised' war and Kennedy got assassinated and LBJ stepped in and tried to fix everything but he couldn't and Nixon didn't keep his promises and lots of not-so-good stuff came from it.
There were loads of anti-war groups at this point; The Resistance and The Weatherman, to name a few. The former was mostly against the draft, the later made everything more militant. They put bombs into symbolic buildings to cause trouble (though they always warned people 'Yo! There's a bomb here that's going to explode in thirty minutes. Get out!' and it went well except for the one bomb that detonated too early and killed a few people – I think. Maybe it just injured some…)
There were lots of college protests, most notable would be Kent State, where four students accidentally got shot.
Either way, America was never the same. I mean really, it was the time of hippies (which didn't just protest the war, as a lot of people think. Hippies more or less protested establishment in general or just anything that could hold them down), how can that not change a country?
(And, what is it with all of these peace things being signed/written/agreed to in France?)
"Then why did I build myself on…their customs that made my roots, their mindset and work that molded me into existence."
This is pretty much a giant reference to the Indians, well; The Native Americans.
When the Pilgrims came and pretty much all the time afterward, Americans just kept taking and taking and taking their land. We'd promise to only take some and leave them that land over there, but then we'd take that and move them on to the next over there. We destroyed their customs and practically everything about them that made them, them.
And we almost killed off all the buffalo!
So, there you have it. A really condensed (but still ungodly long) American History lesson. :D Thanks for reading (both the story and the info)!
...I'm never doing anything with this much history again!