For my baby boy’s sake

My parents divorced when I was three years old, and I lived with my father, grandmother and my two brothers, who are about ten years older than me. My father worked diligently each day to provide for us, often leaving early in the morning and returning late at night. Consequently, the responsibility of my care fell on my grandmother with the help of my brothers.

I should have been grateful that I had three meals a day and a roof over my head. Why should I expect my father and grandmother to pay attention to my emotional needs?

I only reached elementary school level of education as my family couldn’t provide a suitable environment for my learning. Everyone only focused on making ends meet. To ease the financial strain on our family, I desired to start working early. This led to a loss of interest in studying, as I perceived earning money to be more valuable.

Our home was incredibly cramped for the five of us and unbearably hot during the summer. The discomfort made me spend time on the streets and parks after school, avoiding the crowded house. I fell into the wrong company, and these individuals constantly criticized my family. They convinced me that I was mistreated and unloved. In my innocence, I accepted these people as friends, even brothers. They enticed me with kind words, free food, and entertainment. I began to skip school and run away from home, causing my family great distress and resulting in frequent missing person reports to the police. My absences would last for days.

In my early teens, I met some drug users and began experimenting with drugs. I was led to believe that drugs could help me escape my unhappiness, pain, and unpleasant feelings. Moreover, drugs appeared to be a lucrative venture. I was duped into using drugs, associating with criminals, and getting involved in organized crime. By assisting in drug trafficking, I earned money and got drugs for my own use.

I used to believe that imprisonment was an inevitable consequence—a mere transaction. I felt no regret, viewing it as a simple exchange.

However, when I turned 20, I was arrested for drug possession and sent to a rehabilitation center. I used to believe that imprisonment was an inevitable consequence—a mere transaction. I felt no regret, viewing it as a simple exchange.

As I grew older, I grew more reckless and blind to my mistakes. Despite being imprisoned, I felt no remorse. I imagined that, post-release, I would return to selling drugs and engaging in illegal activities, all while enjoying a high income. Both the money I made and the drugs I consumed increased exponentially, leading to a life of luxury and extravagance. Over 20 years, I constantly cycled in and out of prison, causing my family to lose faith in me.

Today, what have I gained? Absolutely nothing.

In January 2022, I was arrested for trafficking 1.22 grams of cocaine. That day, I made the dire mistake of involving myself with drugs again. When I spotted a police checkpoint while driving, I panicked. Under the influence of drugs, I sped through the barricade, losing control of my car and colliding with four other vehicles.

Now, during my imprisonment, I deeply regret my actions. I am filled with guilt and restlessness as I ponder why I placed money and drugs above all else, leading to the destruction of a once joyful family.

I had a complete family: a loving wife, and an adorable baby boy born in 2020, who is now almost three years old. Shortly after our son’s birth, my wife was arrested for drug trafficking, an activity she engaged in due to my influence. I bear responsibility for her actions. Her arrest led to our son being placed in foster care, depriving him of the love, and comfort we should have provided.

I ruined everything. My son lost his parents’ love and care. This realization fills me with regret and sorrow, making sleep elusive.

Now, at 47, I lament not overcoming my addiction despite multiple imprisonments. The fleeting relief and happiness that drugs supposedly provide merely mask the pain, loneliness, sadness, anxiety, and despair. It’s an illusion. Drugs have stolen over 20 years of my life, robbing me of precious moments with my family.

The fleeting relief and happiness that drugs supposedly provide merely mask the pain, loneliness, sadness, anxiety, and despair. It’s an illusion. Drugs have stolen over 20 years of my life, robbing me of precious moments with my family.

For the sake of my son and wife, I can no longer continue this way. Through deep introspection, I acknowledge my failures towards my son, my wife, my parents, and my family. I am determined to change, to ensure this is my last prison sentence, to distance myself from drugs and negative influences, and to live a normal life, providing a loving home for my son and wife. I now understand that a simple life in freedom, with my family by my side, is the greatest joy.

A word of caution to the youth

Reflecting on my past, I aim to alert young individuals about the perils of harmful influences to prevent them from experiencing the remorse I feel.

  1. Be cautious with friendships. Negative influences take advantage of young people’s need for companionship and satisfaction, presenting them with false friendship and material things, which may seem better than what their parents offer. This can result in serious consequences, such as my imprisonment. Refrain from interacting with strangers, both in person and online. These people may hide their true intentions, lure you with kind words and gifts, and get you into trouble.
  2. Resist the temptation of fast and easy money. While involvement in drug trafficking may seem profitable, it comes at the expense of your freedom and loved ones. Incarceration results in long-lasting psychological stress and lifelong regret.
  3. Money can’t purchase love, freedom, or time. Quick profits from illicit activities aren’t worth the cost. Money earned from a regular job over a decade, while enjoying freedom and time with family, holds greater value.

Engaging in drug trafficking is a grave mistake, harming oneself and others. Drugs destroy families and lives.

Note: This story is a combination of three letters, originally written in Chinese. It has been edited to improve readability. Switch language to read the original.