Alfred decided he liked red.
It is a color that you could associate with anger, an emotion that many turn away from, yet it happens to even the sweetest of people, like his dear brother Canada, it is a color that's fiery, and strong. Yet, it is also a color of emotion, love, and everything in between, like the lipstick he kept hidden in his bottom drawer, or the balloons he put up at every birthday party he's held, and the funny shade of France's cheeks when Arthur decides to show his pirate side.
Alfred decided he liked blue.
It is a color rich and deep, yet light and playful. It's the color of the ocean, hidden with so many treasures, hidden with so many living beings, yet it is still not appreciated enough. It's the color of the sky, as if angels were dancing above him, telling everybody in a discrete way that everything would be okay for another day, and they need not to worry. But it also hides deep sorrow in the color, expressing more emotions than word can describe, it reminds him of Arthur's favorite shirt when he was younger, France's macarons, and the pretty flowers he liked so much.
He then decided he liked white.
White is a color of purity, of innocence, of everything that the world stole from him. It doesn't make him feel bitter, just disappointed, but as long as he was able to remember those days he would sing by himself as he dipped his feet into the river, trying not to burn his thigh on the hot rocks, it was alright. But nothing's ever pure in this world, at least not now. And he knows for a fact both nations and humans will never be pure.
After that, Alfred decided he liked stars as well.
They were pretty, glowing things that you could only see at night, but that was because the night is special, the time for people to regain their energy, think about everything that's happened, and just a peaceful moment to reflect on everything that's happened, to appreciate, or to be disappointed. That's what America thinks about it, anyway. He's always been interested in space, so that just added to his love of stars and the night.
And so, he decided he liked himself. With that decision, he put down the knife, took the rope off from the ceiling, and went to bed, covering himself in a warm blanket.
How long will it take until he runs out of reasons to like himself?