The Forgotten War

South Korea

Korea. That's my name.

Or at least, that's what it used to be.

I'm often referred to as just South by others, now that my land is divided into a northern and southern part.

It's strange.

I feel like I'm forgetting who I am.

Let me think back to the moments that defined me, the events that shaped my history and turned me into the nation I am today.

Wow...it has been quite some time. Yet I seem to remember practically everything...

All those past occurrences are still clear in my mind, all those memories are still fresh.

Maybe that's because they're too vivid and painful to forget. Maybe they don't slip from my memory, because the scars on my body are constant reminders.

Or maybe I'm just insane. Maybe I'm just losing my mind.

Either way, I shouldn't complain.

I'm happy all the time, aren't I?
I'm happy, childish, entertaining, and immature, right?
That's what people think of me.
That's who everyone thinks I am.

A little kid who doesn't know anything about the world.

Maybe that's true, maybe they're right. Maybe I am just ignorant and foolish.

But there are a lot of 'maybe's to consider.

For example, maybe I'm hiding behind a mask. Maybe I lie awake at night, crying uncontrollably because I'm alone.

Maybe I only fool around and make perverted jokes because I want to avoid acknowledging the broken relationships and heart-destroying tension between China, Japan and myself.

Maybe I'm not the nation everyone thinks I am.

After all, pain is best hidden by a smile.

Maybe maybe maybe....
There are so many things to consider.

Maybe I am in constant physical pain, because there is wound Japan left in my body, unlike China's scar which is visible.
A wound that is inside of me.
Where no one else can see it.

Maybe all that is true.
But who will ever know?

And who would ever believe foolish, ignorant, little me, right?

So now, I have nothing but my past and my present, and my future is a scary blur of chaos.

Looking back, I think about how it all started, how it all began.

But the thing about history is that it doesn't really start anywhere, does it?

Oh well, I'll just choose one chapter in the book, one small part of the greater story.

The other chapter?
My other memories?
Those are for another time.

Not that anyone would listen, anyway.

So, you can believe me until tears fill your eyes, or you can disregard this as nothing more than a child's fib.
Whether you believe me or not doesn't matter.

Faith cannot be forced upon someone. Trust me, I know.
You cannot force someone to believe.

So, I don't mind.