It hurt. That didn't matter anymore he was used to it. Since the moment he formed he had been torn in different directions, he had asked the other Nations about this, but they all said it hurt only a little and that he should man up. He was trying to man up, but oh god did it hurt. It got worse as he got older, during the civil war he actually had a long cut that constantly bled in the middle of his body causing a scar, but at that point, he was trying to be the hero and wouldn't show any more weakness. He dealt with the pain even when it caused him to fall unconscious, even when he had the worst headaches because of all the conflicting voices screaming in his head.
They were so loud. He couldn't deal with it. It has gotten worse recently. Pro-war, anti-war, pro-life, pro-choice, higher taxes, lower taxes, republican, democratic. It was all just too much. The others always said he didn't have a culture, but that was because his people came from different backgrounds and cultures all forming in one melting pot, or at least it was a melting pot where they all lived peacefully, but now it was ticking bomb waiting to go off at the slightest action. He just wanted peace, but he wouldn't get it until he was dead, which might be sooner than anyone thought.
America might seem like the strong confident hero, but his country was crumbling. It wasn't close to falling, but of the people got divided enough he would die. His people had many faults, but he knew they were capable of working together. He had seen it. In the darkest times they had banded together, but now the forgot how to accept others, and it was killing him. He felt his arm break and his skin tear, but he did nothing to try and mend it. His people didn't care enough to try and mend their broken bonds, so why should he try and mend his broken bones and torn skin. No one cared, not his citizens, not his allies, not his friends, not even the people he's grown to consider family. His lip split and he knew he had a concussion.
He was done. Done with the pain. Done with the hate. Done with the inequality. Done with the bigotry. If his citizens couldn't understand that they were all human regardless of race, gender, religion, sexuality, or anything that they might try to come up with next to form divides between them, then he was gone. Alfred F. Jones, the personification of The United States Of Amerca, the twin brother of Mattew William the personification of Canada, the son of Arthur Kirkland the personification of England and Native America a woman who's name has long since forgotten was done. He had tried to be the hero to get everyone to just be friends and accept each other, but he had failed.
His citizens were tearing each other apart, and he couldn't do anything about it, so he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep for the final time.