Reading through all this, one realizes that indeed the frontal cortex does not form until much later than the chaos of a 17 year old unformed mind. But no remorse, no regrets—this is just another part of the story and without the naiveté and flat out stupidity of youth, one would not be or know what one knows today. It was just one form that I took on without the ability to reflect on actions and without the understanding of time and honor and responsibilities. Either way, reading this will be a journey of sorts; a segment of the path to the eternal now that always erases the past and resigns it to memory even if some consequences can never be erased. Read then, this story of a young boy making the choices of a man.