I DID MONEY RITUALS AND I’M STILL PAYING THE PRICE
I don’t even know where to start because sometimes I still feel like I’m dreaming. My name doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that I’m not the same person I was three years ago. I wanted money. I was tired of being broke, tired of begging, tired of watching others shine while I suffered. I used to tell myself I just wanted a better life, but deep down, I was greedy.
It all started with a friend. He used to wear new clothes every weekend and always had cash on him. One night after drinking, he told me the truth — that he was part of something. He said it was not “dangerous,” just a way to “exchange energy for success.” Those were his words. I laughed at first, but that night I couldn’t sleep. The thought of having that kind of money was louder than my fear.
After two weeks, I told him I was ready. He took me to an old man deep in a village I had never been to. The man didn’t even look surprised when I walked in. He just said, “You’ve been calling money with your thoughts. Now money will answer.” His words still ring in my head. He told me there was a price. I thought he meant payment. But no — he meant something living.
I was asked to bring something that had my blood connection. I froze. I almost turned back, but I didn’t. I told myself everyone sacrifices something for success — some people sacrifice sleep, I just had to sacrifice differently. That’s how I convinced myself.
That night I went home and sat for hours thinking about my younger brother. He was only sixteen. Always trusted me. Always looked up to me. I hate myself for what I did next.
I can’t describe everything that happened after that, but I did what they asked. The ritual was done before sunrise. I remember my body shaking, not from cold but from something that felt like darkness entering me. The next morning, I received a phone call that changed everything — a business deal I had been chasing for months was approved. Money started flowing like water. Cars, women, respect, everything I ever wanted came fast.
But peace disappeared. Every night I saw him. My brother. Sometimes I would hear him calling my name from the other room. At first, I thought it was guilt, but soon I realized it was something else. The old man had told me, “You will never be poor again, but you will never rest.” I didn’t believe him then. Now I understand.
I stopped sleeping. I started drinking heavily just to silence the voices. Sometimes when I look in the mirror, I don’t see myself anymore. My eyes look empty, like someone else is using my body.
If you think money rituals are an easy shortcut, think again. The money comes fast, but it takes everything — your soul, your sleep, your peace, and everyone you love. I wish I could go back, but there’s no way out. The old man warned me that if I ever try to undo it, I’ll die within three days.
I’ve learned that not every rich person is happy, and not every broke person is cursed. I used to laugh when people said money isn’t everything, but now I know it’s true. Sometimes the cost of getting it is too high.
So when you see me smiling in pictures, just remember — behind that smile is a man who traded his blood for wealth. I’m living proof that not all that glitters is gold.
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