Today, I feel good with myself. I’m studying, working, writing, reading, going to the gym, listening to what other people say with attention, but one day, not all was well. There were drugs, crazy parties, bad companies, racism and a lot of bad things. I was also young and stupid. We need bangs to grow up, but there are some bangs from which people cannot (literally) stand up. I needed help, and someone gave it to me. But not just anybody, he was one from a race and religion that I despised. I needed help and someone gave it to me. I had taken a vacation, and when I came back, I noticed some change in my social circle. They were taking a lot of drugs. Of course we had been doing that, but just for experiments (what is so bad too), for now it was every moment that they can do it. I thought, “Well, we are a pack” so I started in it too. One day my parents left our house for a work travel, I was “home alone,” so I called three girls and two friends got stoned. They bought everything, alcohol and drugs too (of course). You can imagine what we were thinking to do, go crazy in a hard and really bad way. That night a friend come to my house. He is an Arabic person. I hated that race, I thought that every single Arab was a crazy person, more if they are not Christian or some “normal” religion. Do you believe it? I don’t know what I had in my head. I knew that my “crazy” Arabic friend didn’t use drugs, so I started to disturb him for that. After when drugs took hold, I screamed him “get out of my house.” Not matter the situation, you have to be really rude to do that. Today, seven years later, I still feel shame for my attitude. He went out. We, my two friends and the girls, started to take what we hadn't yet. The next day, I felt physically so bad and confused. My memories were like pictures with flash. When I was thinking about the last night, I heard someone calling me through the door. It was my friend, my Arabic