You wanna hear something pathetic? When I was a kid, the actual freakin' UNICEF yeah, the United Nations Children's Fund, the same people that hand out rice bowls in third world hellholes gave me money so I could buy a Christmas toy.
(pauses, sneering)
Because apparently, some teacher filled out a form without telling me. She looked at me, messy hair, busted sneakers, sitting in the back of the class with my mouth half-open, and decided, 'Yep. That one's mentally challenged. That one's gonna need charity.'
And you know what I did? Like a damn idiot, I took it. I walked into a TG&Y, clutchin' this little charity voucher like it was a Golden Ticket, and I bought a G.I. Joe. Flint, to be specific. Had the shotgun, the beret, the vest.
(laughs bitterly)
And I thought I was king of the world. Some brain damaged king who needed international charity to own a plastic man who shoots communists.
LIKE A DAMN MORON!
SCREW YOU. I'll buy my own damn toys! I'll sell blood, I'll break bricks with my forehead, I'll rob a fucking vending machine if I have to! But I don't need your Super Chats, I don't need your GoFundMes, and I sure as hell don't need UNICEF telling me I'm too stupid to earn my own G.I. Joe!
You hear me, Internet? I'm not your charity case. I'm not your Make-A-Wish kid. I'm not your Special Olympics participant.