First of all, I would like to name the main characters of this story. For their privacy, I’m going to call them letters, which represent their first names, or aliases. So:

1. “T” – now 19 years old. Already been to prison, and now addicted to weed and other drugs lives in a capital city with his mother and his brother. Hasn’t finished school, and I don’t think he will. Long time ago, he was my best friend.

2. “D” – now 20 years old. My used-to-be classmate. Good friend, we had good times together, especially in school, when we skipped lessons. Now “D” works somewhere outside town, and drinks alcohol almost every day. 

3. “Gs” – now 20 years old. Used to go to the same school as “D” and me. Tought me how to play cards. He was always into business, selling mobile phones and everything else he could. He was like a hustler. He was always broke, but always determined to his quest for money.

4. ”G” – now 19 years old. Went to the same school. Met a girl, who changed his life. Because of that girl, he stopped hanging out with our company, because his girl thought that we were “a bad company”. He broke up with his girlfriend after almost 4 years of friendship. Now he’s gone abroad someplace, I don’t know where.

5. “R” – now 19 years old. Been to prison twice already. When he as 16, he ran away from home for the first time. That was the beginning of his fall even deeper into alcohol, drugs, and crime. Now he’s in jail, and will be there for another year and three months.

6. “A” – now 17 years old. “R”’s younger brother. After seeing how his brother messed up his life, “A” stopped hanging out with us and became a good boy in a family. Now he lives with his parents at countryside, and is happy about it.

7. “P” – that’s me. Now 20 years old. Probably the only one in our company, who still re-visits places we used to spend time, places were we went when we skipped school. I miss those days. Now I study in a college, have a girlfriend, and my mom is happy about me.. I remember that about 4-5 years ago, my mom was not happy about me.. I remember her crying because of me many times..

So that’s it for part one. If you’re interested, I will tell my story.. I will use explicit language, because we used to talk like that. I’m not from England, neither from U.S., English is not my national language, but I’ll try my best to translate everything as I remember and as how it was. I swear that everything I’m about to say is true. I have no intention to lie.