Wishful Thinking

Okay let me say that I will be randomly putting commentary in this story. Not too much so you're annoyed, but there are those weird urges to say something crazy. oh well. Also, this is my first Hetalia fan fiction so go easy on me. I'm still quite new to the Hetalia fandom and have only known about it for a few months. don't judge. I'm still a fan.

England: At least she isn't crazy...

Me: IGGYYYYYYYY!!!!! Glomp!

England: Spoke too soon...

Me: Oh and Iggy is commenting with me! Why? Cuz I feel like it! okay on with the story! byesies!!!

CHAPTER UNO!!!!!

I've been like this for years. No matter how many times I tell myself the real truth, it never works.

I'm still making wishes on stars.

I don't even get how a thirteen year old girl in this world has so much hope in something this fleeting. Even if wishing on stars worked, why would the stars answer my pleas over all of the more useful wishes they get all the time. Not to mention the light we see in the stars are about 100 to 400 years old when we see it. So therefore if the star did get my wish, it would be dead before it could grant it.

And yet, no matter what, I still have this glimmer of hope that a star is actually going to grant my wish someday because of "fate," or whatever. Stupid, I know.

I guess I have an excuse, since my parents were always telling me that because my name was "Star" in another language, I was bound to be special. Stella. Not that special. Lots of kids are named Stella. Big whoop. I can't remember why else my parents say I was special, but I now know what it was.

Bullshit.

My parents are dead. So are my three sisters, four brothers, and all but one of my seven siblings who "have yet to decide." I'm barely in eighth grade, and I live alone. Like Japan. Yeah that's right, you guessed it.

I watch Hetalia.

Stupid? Yes. No, more like idiotic. Why am I like this? I live alone, but not in an apartment or a little cottage or even a house.

I live alone in a fucking mansion. One of the biggest fucking mansions in Venice, Italy, to be exact. So therefore, it's very lonely. so lonely, that my only companions are my two cats, Feli and Gigi, and my Hetalia friends that live on Netflix, the video games, my posters, my clothes, my plushies, and every keychain, button or knickknack you can think of owning. If it weren't for my friends Luka and Sara, I would probably be slowly going insane on my own. Literally. Like, thinking my cat Feli is the country Italy because of his name, insane.

I may be a thirteen year old guardian of myself, but I'm not mature for my age. At all.

Seriously. My nickname for me from my friends is Idiota. My room is covered in posters and plushies (like I said, hetalia,) and I can throw a fit like I'm fucking six. If that's mature, then I'm set. No? Thought not.

Anywho, my one sibling who isn't dead and still walking this earth is my 25 year old "brother" Pietro, but he calls himself Concetta. He's exactly what you're thinking. He's a drag. A pageant boy. A transvestite. A rainbow covered boy. Call it what you will. Just not a freak. he isn't. He just loves his dolly clothes and makeup, is all.

To be honest, I look up to Pitro (my nickname for him) for being so outgoing with himself. I've always hidden myself away from the world, and, like I said, I put all of my faith and trust in the stars. (Author: And PIXIEDUST!!! England: Shut up, wanker! Author: YOU SHUT UP ENGLAND!!! Okay sry had to back to da story now...) My brother was the only one who encouraged me to go out and be myself, but I never did. ever.

Anyways, this isn't about me. This is about me. The real me. The person who is hiding because she can't come out. the person who I didn't even know existed before that day. That beautiful, magical, wonderful day that changed my life. Yes, that's stupid, but I loved that day.

At least, I do now. I absolutely hated that day when it happened.

I was sitting at home watching Hetalia as usual. Pitro was getting ready for his date with his boyfriend, Sergio, and he had only just come out of his room and walked over to me. he bent down in front of me, causing me to curse in Italian.

"Che cazzo*, fratello! I told you not to come between me and the show!"

My brother smirked. "I swear, sorella, you act more and more like that Italian character on there every day." he laughed his high pitched laugh.

I scowled. "I am not Romano!" I shouted. He didn't even know the characters well. It annoyed me more than when someone mixed up Canada and America.

Pitro changed the subject.

"Anyways, so you know how I said Sergio had a brother?"

"Yeah. And that he was my age. So?"

"Well..." Pitro made a face. It wasn't just any face. It was the pleading, puppy dog, "as a sister, help me!" face. I shook my head quickly.

"No. No no no no no!"

"Please, sorella? For me?"

"No! I'm not going on your date with your boyfriend's little brother so you can impress him!" I shouted.

Pitro looked me in the eye.

"Stella," he said, making that tone that spat out authority and pleading at the same time. "Remember what Mama said."

Tears welled up in my eyes. I shook my head, surprised that he would bring that up. He patted my back. He always went just so far that I would agree. I sighed. I was defeated. He smiled at me before apologizing. I pouted dramatically before going upstairs to get ready.

Today would be my first date.

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Hello! If you are reading this, I am glad you haven't realized this book will suck! As a fair warning, I have a severe history of never finishing a story that wasn't an assignment...but I'm getting better! I have bad writers block and probably have ADD. Oh well. I hope you keep reading as things will become better, I promise!!! PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME!!!!

England: She really is crazy, I'm locked in her basement so she can brag to all her friends...

Me: Ehehehhehehehhehehe!!! yeah, he's right...GLOMPING TIME, IGGY!!!

England: Oh, Shit! Heeeeelp!!!!

Okay, bye for now! I don't know Italian, so forgive my lack of it in here. Byesies!

*Che cazzo-What the fuck.