I was only 14 years old. | by Anonymous | Oct, 2025

I was only 14 years old. At that time, I had almost no friends; I could barely find someone to go out with. Most people avoided me. I remember one day, it was raining. I had sent a message to two kids to hang out. They agreed.

As we were walking, we ended up in front of a public service building, very isolated. Behind it stretched a large forest. Out of curiosity, we went inside, since we had nothing better to do.

As we walked, I started noticing strange plants with five leaves. I stopped. I pulled out my phone, took a picture, and searched it on Google. The result was clear: cannabis. The plants were small, just beginning to flower.
– “Hey, guys, look at this… do you know what this is?” I said.
– “Seriously? Cannabis?” one of them replied.

We couldn’t resist. At first, we picked the buds and smoked them just for the experience. Then we started selling them. It wasn’t big money, but it seemed easy.

With that group of friends, we slowly lost contact. I met others. I told them what I used to do, and they got involved too. One guy found, through an app, someone from another country who sold stronger products. We mostly kept those for personal use, but word spread among our group. For a while, we stayed inactive, but then we got back into it.

At some point, we decided to grow our own. We found places, researched how to take care of them, and even spent money on equipment. Some crops failed, but we kept going. Until one night, I was riding a motorbike with a friend when the police stopped us. They found cannabis on him. They took him to the station. There, he talked.

The next day they caught another one of our group. Then another. Slowly, everyone was getting dragged in. I remember one event where we were all together, and someone got a call from a hidden number:
– “We’re the police. Come outside now.”
And when he stepped out, they grabbed him.

That’s when suspicions started. “Snitching,” “your brother gave us up”—panic, shouting, swearing. At the station, the interrogations were tough. Some talked, some didn’t. Nobody knew who to trust. Eventually, after court, they were released.

But for me, the story wasn’t over. After cannabis, I moved on to(Pink cocaine) TUSI. I didn’t think twice. I began obsessively searching how it was made, what materials were needed, instructions—everything. Step by step, we learned the process and finally managed to make it.

Through apps, we found ways to send shipments abroad by courier. We had one client who helped us, then another came along. Deliveries became regular, money was coming in. It felt like we had built “our own business.”

Until one day everything collapsed. Someone ratted us out. The police raided the place we worked, found materials and some of the production. They took us all in. Interrogations, shouting, threats:
– “Tell us whose stuff this is!”
– “We know what you’re doing, you won’t get away with it!”

The pressure was unbearable. In the end, they released us, but nothing was the same anymore. Friendships were ruined, partners turned cold, every relationship froze. For a long time now, it’s still the same. We didn’t even say hello to each other anymore—we had lost everything, even our place. Out of anger, we broke everything in sight, bothering everyone just to get our spot back and to go against the police. It was like we were lashing out at the wrong target.

After intense moments of stress and anxiety, everyone would realize that no matter how much money you make, it’s never worth what you have to go through by following that path. I have left that life behind me, and I will never get involved in it again.