I am not a saint

I’m not Mr. Goody-Two shoes. My friends are always asking me, “Phillip why are you such a saint? YOU’RE SO RELIGIOUS!! What, you think you’re better than us?

You get straight A’s, huh? You just love to please your parents, don’t you?”

I am sick of it. I am just as bad as you all.

I am not a saint. Granted, I go to church, pray before I eat or sleep, and I’ll live by Christian principles till I die. I don’t do stuff like smoking, drinking, partying, cussing, and other stuff because that is not my style. Not because I’m scared that my parents would find out. It’s because I HAVE A FREAKIN BRAIN!!!

Besides, Momma and Dada raised me to be this way. I don’t do the things they don’t want me to be doing because I don’t want to upset them or do it because to me, IT’S STUPID!! Why do people smoke and drink anyway? THAT STUFF IS KILLING YOU!! And it’s bad for your health. I wish one more person would come to me and say, “Phillip, it’s good for you, man. It cures stress.” BOY!! BACK UP!!! There are millions of other things you can do that cures stress and bazillion of other things you can do to have fun.

Another thing, my friends keep saying that I’m just scared because my parents would find out if I do the things they do. No I’m not scared, why? BECAUSE I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING TO BE SCARED OF!!! BECAUSE I’M NOT DOING ANYTHING THEY DON’T WANT ME TO BE DOING!!! I’m not saying I’ve been like that all my life because there’s plenty of bad things my parents don’t know and I’m NEVER going to tell them.

Like the time I got straight C-s in my 8th grade report card and buried it in the backyard, or the time I put my neighbor’s cats in the washing machine, or three years ago, when I kept switching people’s mail from their mailboxes for two months straight. There was also the time when I kept throwing cats in the swimming pools and when I went to that party and got dragged out of it by Nancy, the abusive girlfriend I had. My parents will never find out about the time I blew up the dryer that could’ve burned the whole apartment complex down if the fire department didn’t show up. Then there were other things, like when I blazed a tree, tagged my full name on a wall, got caught by the police and sweet talked them into letting me go. Then there was the time I went to my ex-girlfriend’s house, ordered 15 boxes of pizza and left before the pizza man got there.

I swear you all can be so judgmental sometimes. Despite my looks, skin tone, height, head-size, and muscle sizes, I’m just like you all. We’re all the same. I’m no better, or worse. So stop treating me like I am a saint, because I am not.