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Selling Yourself To Afford Dignity | People

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Selling Yourself To Afford Dignity
Selling Yourself To Afford Dignity


His redbrown dreadlocks are hanging in a tied knot in the back of his neck, one of the locks ran away during our conversation and ended up hanging inside his front pocket on the ripped off, coffee-stained T-shirt.

“Do you want some?” he asked while exhaling the thick smoke out of his lungs.

I wanted to say no but all that I got out was an uncomfortable shaking of my head.

“Why are you doing this? Why weed? Aren’t you high enough on life like I am?”  I asked while trying to force out a smile that was as fake as Nicki Minaj Grammy performance (but hopefully not as awful).

He just smiled, and the wrinkles around his 25-year-old eyes were a little disturbing. He told me that he smokes occasionally and that he mostly sells it to younger, under-aged teenagers to afford his studies as a health coach! And yes, this young man who is inhaling like he never inhaled before, is selling weed to under-aged people to afford his education to become a health coach. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again – how ironic.

Makes you think about how the system treats our future ones, right? I would love to hear an explanation about how this can be life, year 2012. Who knew that something that can get you in the dirt is something that leads the way to your career?

“I’ve been struggling a lot in my life, but I also know people who never struggled but still are doing the same damn thing I’m doing every day for many many years, maybe for the rest of their lives”

The sound of shattered glass in my head makes me shudder. I will never forget when I was a 16 year old and tried my first and last joint of marijuana. I remember standing in a circle with some older friends in the kitchen while sipping on my glass of wine, and then they decided to smoke, which I did too.

The only thing I remember from that moment was that my heart was beating really fast, I got cold and sweaty at the same time and everything seemed so far away. I got numb, life was numb – but I loved it.

Last thing I remember was waking up on the floor, shaking like a leaf underneath the window. I heard from people around that I thought I was going to die and fall down from the window. I was hallucinating really bad and it felt like somebody had walked in to my memory and cut a big slice of it from that night and thrown it away. Where was I?  But most important – Who was I?

“I didn’t sell drugs because I wanted to, I know it’s harmful shit and that you basically can dig your own grave. But I had no other option. 

When society turn its back on you and treat you like dirt because you’re black, you have no other choice than to survive on your own.” – Fredrick J. Kelmer, former dealer and now a rehabilitate assistant at Sjukvardsguidens rehab center in Sweden.

After that night when I tried smoking for the first time, I felt ashamed. Because it’s always been against my morals to smoke weed and pot and I have had friends that gotten into deep dirt because they started off their journey with these kinds of soft drugs and ended up dead with heroin in their veins. May you Rest In Peace – and I hope you’re glad with your decisions.

I have talked to several people who are or have been drug dealers at a young age. Some of them I met online, some of them through connections, but there’s one thing that I discovered during my research for this article – They all had lost at least one parent or family member.

Is that a coincidence?

Basically all of their stories I heard goes like this:

Childhood is a blur, mom and dad always arguing, siblings are being annoying and they feel lonely even though they are a part of a large family.

One parent or sibling dies, best friend disappears, friends are gone when you need them (because you are too young to trust people that will always be there for you, you’re naive and think that you are invincible which you’re not) and the rebel side of you feels like all you want to do is break a law or too, do something bad because bad karma is what you’re going to get anyway. So you decide to smoke away your sorrows. Put all aggression and sorrow in something that can’t judge you or look back at you with a pointing finger nor a frown, your weak side of your brain takes over the smart and strong one and you keep on doing what you know you shouldn’t do. You lost the battle – which you just think you won.

“As for life at home, there was a twist with my step dad. Well, what can I say? He is a vicious, wild man who didn’t want us. He started to “discipline” us – he called it this, but anyone else would call it beating. – And there was the beginning of my career” – Marcus, 19 year old dealer

These stories really touched my heart, but I still can’t come over the first guy that was targeting his business to under-aged, easily fooled and naive young ones who paid for his education to become the opposite of what he is today.

I guess irony doesn’t have a limit when it comes down to you not having any choice, but I can’t stop wondering – can you make yourself new options in life or are we stuck to the drinks that the happy hour of life has to offer?

…Do we have to sell ourselves to afford our dignity?