I grew up with the kid named Michael better known as Mookie, he lived next door to me so
we would always be together. Eventually we got close, and he turned out to be one of my closest friends.

We lived in a bad neighbor so we were exposed to certain things we shouldn’t have, such as drugs.


Being around certain things made us live that lifestyle, but since we were young we did small stuff

Like egg cars, knock on people’s doors and run and steal from the corner store.

But one day I went to his house and knocked on his door, and they said Moonie never came home.

In my mind, I thought he adapted to the street life and hustle but I eventually found out he was hiding

Under the bed for three days because he and his mom had gotten into it.


About my whole life I did grow up with Mookie, so he was like my best friend, but one day he just

Got really sick and was diagnosed with sickle cell.

I mean day after day it got worst. I went to visit him a few times, but after a while, I hated to see him like that and I would just rather see him when he was well.

But then my mom told me he wouldn’t make it, so they brought him home to spend his last moments

with his family and friends.


He looked totally different from what I remembered ,when I got the news he passed, I couldn’t think but that I lost my friend , my home boy , my next door neighbor , my BEST FRIEND . I WAS DEVESTATED. But ever since that death of Michael, I’ve lost friends and more friends to the streets and I just wished that it would end.