Hetalia: Is this The End? (America)
I peered into the mirror at my figure. Seeing my squinting eyes, I fumbled around for my glasses.
It was awful. I could see why I didn't put them on in the first place. My blue eyes stood out against the dark bags underneath my eyes. The rest of my body was pale and thin.
I haven't been eating as much as I use to. Occasionally I would pig out and go for a few days or weeks without eating. It's a good thing that none of the other countries know this, especially England.
I've been thinking of a way to explain this awful feeling to him. I've written countless letters that ended up in the trash, covered in burger grease, or just left unfinished. Sooner or later I reached the conclusion that there's no point in trying to write if I don't understand the situation myself.
At times when I look in this very mirror, I see an aged face. A more mature face than my own, much like England's. Is he trying to somehow tell me to be more