The Worst.

I’m the lazy re-appropriation of a popular slogan shamelessly included to make my story seem culturally relevant! My inference that difference requires disobedience to my cultural history highlights the perfunctory, reactionary nature of my idealism. Any positive value of my platitudinal responses on identity becomes a garbled mess through my defection, an act so insipid even I should notice that I’M A BAD GUY NOW. Still, I can’t help but leave you with my anachronistic magnum opus: the replacement of a single word! I really am the bottom of the rainbow. Mutant and proud!

My silence is the new meaning of the word charity. People will actually pay to see what I can write in 140 characters! I’m the Bono of sexting!

I’m a destructive roadblock! My insane dash into the road, however uncalculated, worked well to highlight the disregard with which humans treat my kind. Though I clearly ran into the road at such a point that you would’ve been unable to stop, my death by your fender has forever made me a martyr for the cause of Feline Freedom. The dent I left in your bumper, unreasonably large for a cat my size, is a metaphor for the impression my actions left in your fascist institution. I’m the frustrating reminder that your car is no longer perfect!

I’m a confused/confusing metaphor about human rights! Though my symbolism refers to what humanity will become if their rights are steadily taken away, I’m an attack on a 50-year-old policy system that is more lax than at its inception, making me an inane attempt at engaging the issue. Though people’s misconceptions about what I mean will lead them to wild conclusions about the numbers of their population, they will say one accurate thing about me: I’m mostly a ploy to keep this fashionista “over[read: on] the top.” I’m the uncooked flesh-soul of the American people!

We are the nightmares of America! Together we represent all the stupidity, confusion, pageantry, and absurdity of the American people. Despite what are probably our best intentions, we have become the icons of a generation obsessed with ridiculing the Ludacris ludicrous. We are clearly flawed and not suited for the positions we seek, but we know that and recognize that we are more effective as the entertainers of the Children of Irony. JUST KIDDING! WE BELIEVE EVERYTHING WE SAY! LET’S PARTY!

I know Spanish, making me The Worst! My friends think I’m so cool because I read the internet. Little do I know, they don’t really care about the internet!

I’m an overly convenient storytelling device! Though I exist in a series that prided itself on consistency with previously explained abilities and powers, my presence indicates a cultural affinity towards simplistic, albeit ludicrous, conclusions to complex conflicts. Don’t forget to love each other today; I’m the Kurt Hummel of children’s anime!

My birth-driven sing-a-long to Vocal Adrenaline’s version of Bohemian Rhapsody was both creepy and poorly executed. I made some people (this person) laugh! At least my baby was born one month earlier than my due date, ten months after the season began, “nine months” after Glee club started, and who knows how long after the Spring Break due date that Terri’s awful sister mentioned in an earlier episode. My baby should have been named Attention to Detail!

I have the tendency to turn every problem and slight in my friends’ and family’s lives into personal issues. My self-absorbed personality keeps me from understanding that my brother HAS DEEP ROOTED EMOTIONAL PROBLEMS, as I prefer to assume that everyone hates me! I sure hope I can win over the man of my dreams, Frank Lundy, with the stupid grin I get when I’m “on to something!”

Update: I won the man of my dreams!

Update: I learned the value of taking control of my life! I hope that means I’m not as selfish in season 3!

I was celebrated for being different because my childish crush clouded serious issues that my friend was having with his mother dating!