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To England, who started my legacy to freedom.
To Canada, who stood by me and accepted to protect my people against me.
To Japan, who is a friend I harmed for the sole protection of my people.
And to the citizens of my beloved United States, who I loved, nurtured and thought of more than anything...
My last breath is for you.
This is utterly ridiculous, I thought. Never in my entire life had I anticipated that my death would be this way: in a cell built by my own people, with a gun that I gave to them myself. If I were to admit, I'd rather have a death closer to Prussia's, or Ancient Rome. At least they don't have to be in so much pain; their people were merely stripped off of their flag. If that was pain, then I must be in hell.
I have to be here dying as a core of an empire torn apart from the inside. A building destroyed from the outside can be built again, while a building destroyed from its foundation cannot. It was the real truth in all of this absurdity.
In a few moments, I shall be executed as Alfred F. Jones, a government official loyal to the President. I heard I was the last one to receive my end, and it hurts hearing that from the lips of a man whose blood is one of those I fought my independence for. I cannot possibly describe how this pain felt like it was an eternal heart attack, but I guess I just did, did I?
Either way, I could endure this for as much my people would let me. I could do this all day, all month, all year if they want me to. I could do anything as long as they want me to. That was the way it had always been. And so if they want to end the country, then I would let them do so. They all lived, and the promise of a brighter, newer, better America tempts me too. It's such a shame I won't be here to see it.
I also heard that after they had shot the last man, the flag burning would commence and the new head of state will raise the new one. That would be my official death, when the signing was done. That would happen before I could even go back to life. That, I was glad ofーI only have to witness them killing my physical body and not my identity.
This quill and parchment was given to me by an old guard, and I could barely remember his name now when back then I could recite my citizen's names one by one in alphabetical order. I guess they are already started to sign some documents by now, if my memory and body started to fail. With that a given, I could say that this last message is the real last thing I would write. Maybe, I won't even last until tomorrow. I shall meet my death tonight, at most.
I do accept that I cannot reverse this, nor talk my way out of this anymore. Even if I break out of this cell, I will still die when the last Star-Spangled Banner was burned to the ground. And to those who shall read this tomorrow, I have no intention of escaping. I do accept my end wholeheartedly, even if this pain makes me carve my skin inside out. I do accept anything my people shall give me, for I will give anything to them.
And to my fellow countries, dead and alive, I shall ask for your cooperation: treat my people no more, and no less as you do when I was there.
And to the sons of the hard-fought independence and peace, I thank you for protecting my lands.
And to the beautiful people that gave me a soul, identity, a living nameーGod Bless you all.
God Bless America and the Earth.