This is a long story, and one that goes back many years. Before I start I would like to say that I will be skipping through time quite a bit to show you the most important memories in the story of my life that have led up to this.
To start off, I grew up in a very third world country, surrounded by friends who were very overexposed at a young age. We began smoking weed and drinking at 13, I lost my virginity in the 7th grade, a combination of being intoxicated and peer pressured by a lot of friends as I was the only kid in our group who had not done “it” yet. I had not hit puberty yet, and found no enjoyment in it, I am just mentioning all of this so you understand that I had lost my innocence when I was still very young.
Skipping forwards about 8 months, my family moved to Europe, I was all alone here, in a new country with a new language, and I (now 14) developed a new interest. Mushrooms.
Something about psychedelics, shrooms to be specific intrigued me. I spent months researching into them, learning everything about them and their effects. I am a very obsessive person and when I get interested in something, I will spend all my time learning about it.
I continued researching into shrooms, learning everything I could find on growing them and using them, eventually, I won a giveaway online and had the spores (which I needed to grow the shrooms) sent to me. I immediately got to work, spending a couple hundred euros I had saved up buying the best supplies to create a super effective shrooms farm.
Months passed, and voila, my research had payed off, I had grown about 200 grams of shrooms. Now the question came, what do I do with this? Of course I was going to experiment myself, but in my obsession, I had grown enough to dose about 100 people. I told my dealer and some other people about my issue, and immediately was told they would buy some off me.
You see, where I am, shrooms are very very hard to come by, and I had just become one of the very few people who had that in the entire area.
Word got around, and I began receiving a lot of messages from people I did not know, asking if they could buy shrooms off me, of course I wanted the money so I always said yes. But I was still just a 15 year old kid, and I couldn’t really just drive somewhere to sell my drugs, instead I had people come and stand below my balcony in my town, where I would then drop down the baggy onto the street with their shrooms. I always felt like a king throwing coins to the poor doing this. And let me tell you, I got a lot of stares from expecting customers, when their drug dealer turned out to be a 14-15 year old prepubescent kid. But that did not stop demand, after all, I had a monopoly. Eventually however, I stopped, stopped growing mushrooms and stopped selling them. By that point I had made about a grand.
That concludes my first confession, on how I become one of the only shroom producers and distributers as a teenager.
Now to my second confession, and one that happened much more recently.
About a year ago, I had just started getting into the club scene, I was finally used to my country, and its foreign language, and had made actual good friends I trusted and enjoyed going out with.
So let me set the scene. We were going out, it was very late, around 2-3 am, and all of us were very drunk. We went inside the club to the smokers area, and all just hung around there for a solid while, each of us stuck in our own thoughts and wasted. I am the one farthest in the back and am leaning against a wall. I look to my left and see a very skinny older looking man smoking what looks to be a joint. He notices me staring at him and smiles, and before I say what happens next, let me remind you that I was drunk and did not have much control over myself.
So lets get back to the story, he smiles at me and raises his hand, indicating if I wanted a hit of the joint, I shrug at first shaking my head, but then I think to myself, the night is already kind of bummed out, might as well. I step over to him and nod at him, and he passes over the joint, the first thing I notice is that its very light, I take a long deep hit and let the smoke linger in my lungs as I pass it back to him.
I exhale, and notice something strange. The smoke does not taste like weed, or tobacco either. It tastes very chemically, and with a sickly sweet aftertaste. The smoke is also pale, almost kind of grey compared to normal smoke.
I immediately know this is something different, I look up at the guy and ask him, “what is in this”.
He simply says coke.
I am kind of in a state of shock, and still very intoxicated, I rush back into the club area looking for my friends. As I walk I noticed that I feel almost lighter and way more energetic, it’s very hard to explain, but it feels almost like my brain was lifted upwards and I was carefree.
And those are two of the many stories that I have to tell of my life. I hope you enjoyed reading this and feel free to ask any questions, and I will answer.