England was not faring well. With all of the people on benefits and price cuts he just couldn't handle it. England gasped as the kitchen knife glided along his skin, blood pouring freely from the wound. He didn't cut too deep, even if he did death would not come. It wasn't enough, the pain just wouldn't leave.

He once again lifted the knife and drew it across his wrist, tears blurred his vision. Usually around this time of year the prices raised, however, Black Friday had taken it's toll on him. The way his people had acted disgusted many but he understood them, he understood their need for the cuts.

Blood ran down his wrists in intricate patterns, dripping onto the porcelain floor. Black spots began to fill his vision, england smiled a broken smile. He giggled insanely but slapped his hands to his mouth prevent his laughter. When he had finally calmed down, he removed his hands from his face leaving trails of the red liquid across his cheeks.

Sometimes he thinks there's something wrong with him and one day he won't be able to take it anymore. Then he remembers. It's the British way of life, the British can endure.

What have I done?!
; ^ ; I'm sorry.