Diary:

Iceland came home today. We sat down in the living room, just us two, and drank some coffee (he drank hot chocolate) while we spoke. He was very nervous, and I was starting to get anxious.

I asked him about the diary; he took a while to respond, but eventually, he did.

He... apologized.

"I'm actually like that..." he said. "I'm not that quiet, smart boy you always thought I was. I'm sorry for pretending to be that way....I know you guys always expect me to be like that, so I tried hard to fulfill your expectations, but that wasn't me...I'm really sorry. You must be disappointed... "

I calmly sipped my coffee, and slowly put the cup down, careful to not spill anything. I stood up, cleared my throat... and then I  ran out the door.

Yes, I ran away from home

HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO RESPOND TO THAT??

"Yeah, you fucking thundercunt, you're a disappointment bigger than America's debt, you motherfucking piece of shit"

I PANICKED AND RAN OUT. VERY MATURE, AM I RIGHT? I'M SOBBING AS I WRITE THIS. I JUST CAN'T BELIVE MY LITTLE BROTHER IS A FUCKING IDIOT.

I don't have anywhere to stay, so I may have to sleep outside on a pile of trash again.

-Norway

His diary is pocket sized. He keeps it in a pocket inside his jacket along with a fountain pen.

classy motherfucker