I'm bored, yeah. And, I'm spoiled. Growing up in this country has provided me the luxury to complain. To complain about the smallest of inconveniences. Baby crying? I'm fucking annoyed and how dare you, sir. I'm appalled by your behavior that affects me in the smallest of ways. I don't know how to be responsible, and I don't know how to deal with real problems. I live in a fantasy world. Sure, there's a war going on, bombs being dropped, children being killed, but I can't be bothered by such things. I'm so bored. I'm so desperate for attention. I want it, badly. So, what does an insecure, spoiled American do to remedy this "problem"? Well, I think I'll intentionally dress in odd attire. I'll go out and soak up the attention, and this attention makes me feel validated. I'm different and I'm ever so special. Sometimes, I'll wear a wig, an outdated hat or sing loudly in public. I LOVE the attention because it makes me feel unique and the more you complain about me, the more I soak it up, see? These are the things I do because I'm bored, I'm spoiled and I'm an American. Isn't it great? Please notice me and please acknowledge my pathetic attempt for attention. Please talk about me, I love the whispers, for it fills a deep void within. Like a baby, a spoiled little baby, I crave attention, be it positive or negative. Don't matter none to me, as long as you're acknowledging my presence. I love it. I fucking love it. Damn, I'm so turned on now, thinking about myself.
Bored American. Spoiled American
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