Sign In
Create Account
Started selling weed in small amounts back in 2018, went abroad from living in a very backwards community in the gulf/Middle East to a Mediterranean island. Originally traveled to pursue a degree in Molecular Biology and Genetics, found myself falling for opioids and other sort of epilepsy/nerve damage medication and hyper abused them till I almost lost my mind, was already smoking marijuana infrequently whilst popping.
Was using the money sent by my legal guardians to finance my failed lifestyle and get more drugs to abuse, fast forward a year from when I arrived to the island and I started gaining consciousness again, becoming more aware of the downward spiral I was going in, thought of a way to finance my lifestyle without really using my food and water funds (the progression of me using my legal guardians' funds resulted in me being starved for almost a consecutive year and a half).
That's when I started selling 25%-50% of the drugs I had on me just to be able to afford food every now and then, slowly got sick of that as I started getting introduced to other dealers, witnessing the life they were living influenced me and made me rethink a lot of my decisions and that resulted in me trying to get close to one of my dealers and asking him if I can start selling drugs, bear in mind, the island I'm speaking about has no more than 400k residents, majority of the people living there are students, the volume of drugs moving in the street isn't really as major as other countries, but when you put the island in perspective with the other countries, you come to realize the ratio makes sense. So I asked for an ounce, which came off as a surprise to my dealer because I am really just a normal regular user who usually buys from him in miniscule amounts, he started warning me about the dangers of holding that much, sounded kind of stupid to me, so I just pretended to know the risks and dangers and told him I'd be okay, he said, he'll give me quarters from that ounce and whenever I finish the quarter, I come back for a reload, just to ensure his safety and mine (somehow lol).
Flipped that ounce, made some nice money for the first time in my entire life, coming from a very strict household where money was a very rare sight, the profit I made from that teeny tiny ounce was extremely enticing. Continued to flip an ounce every week, slowly gaining traffic and moving more, I found myself needing 3-4 ounces every week, other dealers in the area picked up and started trying to befriend me, whatever. Fast forward a bit, I get arrested for illegal possession of narcotics (1 fucking gram of Marijuana ahahaha), I spend 8 days in the cell, going back and forth to trial, got out on bail and got given a 2 year rehabilitation program, passport got seized until probation is fully finished. That's when I started to really get into this shit, paradoxical hate towards a government that isn't even mine, inner grief and anger towards the retarded arrest that made no sense, I promised myself I'd go bigger. Fast forward a year, my dealer gets raided because a family in his area called cops because of his suspicious activity, cars coming in and out. Thankfully my dealer introduced me to his plug months before that happened, so I continued my operation with the plug, got more information and more guidance from the plug. Started moving around 7-10 ounces every week by then, getting invited by all these underground hotshots in the island to various house parties and private gatherings, met a lot of crazy retarded psychopaths, kept on getting influenced by the lifestyle and the cold-hearted approach the people I met had towards economics.
Well, I found myself getting kilos all of a sudden that I have to hold on me, at first, I was very fucking scared, because it was very obvious I was being played as a pawn for these guys, they put me on the frontline, but me agreeing to what they put me through only made them like me more and trust me more, so now I was able to get myself a throwaway house somewhere not too far from where I usually make my business, my personal traphouse (not really, no one stays there, we don't hang out there), would stash my shit there, go there to chop it up, bag it up and move the fuck away from there as soon as I can, the paranoia is fucking real.
Started moving 2 kilos every week now, got my first car, a Mercedes c180, was extremely fucking happy, felt powerful, I had funds, no worries about where my money is going, I'm making 2x-3x what I lose in a day.
POP, a very close runner of mine gets arrested at 6pm on 2/2/2022, I get a call from a friend who was in the area where he got arrested that "S" got arrested, I start fucking panicking, shaking, I felt the end was near, I started questioning my trust in this guy (mind you I've known him for almost 3 years by then), started tripping and shit, calling his girl to clean the apartment they're in if he was keeping anything there, to clear her phone etc.
Long story short, that same day at 11:39pm, I was on my way to the mountains where I moved after 3-4 times of moving out that year, the narcotics police of the island had planned a setup, the road leading to my house was blocked.
(I was carrying with me 250grams of marijuana that I wish I hadn't carried because I allowed my emotions to get the best of me, carrying it to hide it somewhere in the forest on the mountains.)
I saw the narcos car flashing it's blue and red lights and signalling for me to halt the car, I braked, stopped for a couple secs, 4-5 officers came out of the car, their car was empty now, I put the car in reverse and start driving backwards, forgot road had turns becuz of adrenaline, paranoia and anxiety, car fell off a ledge, thank God it wasn't off the whole mountain, I crash into the garden walls of someones house.
There's much more to tell, got tired of typing, will finish later.
Edited by ChrolloLucifer, 30 September 2023 - 09:46 PM.
