Hi guys,
my name is Lee, and today I'm going to tell you the story of my life—one that didn't just shape my days, but my entire fate. This story is from 2000, when I left everything behind and came to the United States from Korea. My only goal was simple: to get an education and save my family from the life they had been trapped in for years.
When I arrived in America, I was 20 years old. I was young, but the weight of responsibility on my shoulders felt heavier than any elder's burden. My parents were extremely poor. Poverty didn't visit their home as a guest—it ruled the house. The debts were so heavy that every morning came with a new fear, and every night passed in restless worry.
My father had spent his life working hard, but we had never truly lived in peace. My mother prayed constantly that I would study and become someone in life. Sending me to America had not been an easy decision. They borrowed money, asked favors from others—all in the hope that I might change their destiny.
Once I arrived, I realized that the challenges weren't just language and culture—the real challenge was money. Here, everything ran on cash. Rent, food, transportation, tuition—everything required money. I didn't have a penny saved. What little I had was gone in the first month.
I started applying for jobs—restaurants, stores, warehouses. Wherever I could, I went. But everywhere they demanded experience, proper documentation, or references. I had none of these.
During the day, I studied. At night, I collapsed into my tiny room, exhausted. Sometimes the hunger was so intense that I went to sleep drinking only water. I tried to stay strong, but inside, I was breaking.
I was poor.
And the worst part about being poor is that slowly, a person loses their dignity.
I needed money. Not just a little—but a lot. Tuition needed to be paid, money had to be sent home, and most importantly, I had to preserve my sense of self. I wanted money by any means. By any means.
But money wasn't coming from anywhere.
It was in this desperation that I spoke to my friend Artur. I had known Artur for a while. He had always walked the wrong path—small-time thug, minor crimes, illegal dealings—this was his life. I usually stayed away from him, but that day, my desperation drew me to him.
We met in a quiet corner of the city. It was night. Artur held a cigarette, his eyes shining with the confidence of someone who feared nothing—not even the law. I told him everything: my situation, my family, my desperation. I poured it all out, and he listened quietly. Then suddenly, he laughed.
There was no sympathy in that laugh.
He said,
"Lee, there's a family nearby. They're strong, very wealthy. If we take a risk, one night could change everything."
It felt like electricity ran through my body.
"Are you crazy?" I said. "Steal? I can't do that."
And it was true. I had never stolen in my life. I had never taken what wasn't mine. I could be wrong, I could fail, but I was not a criminal.
Yet, when I returned to my room, Artur's words clung to my mind. That night, I couldn't sleep. Money… just money. I kept asking myself: if I commit this one wrong act, would everything be okay afterward?
The next night came. And then another.
Eventually, I broke.
I agreed.
We formed a team of five people. I was the newest among them; the others were experienced players in this world. The plan was simple: enter the house, threaten the people with fake guns, take the valuables, and leave. The guns weren't real, but at that moment, I thought no one would get hurt.
It was 11 PM when we set out. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. My hands were shaking uncontrollably.
We entered the house. Everything happened so fast—screams, running, grabbing. I felt like I was in someone else's body. I felt nothing.
But just as we were about to leave…
the police arrived.
Sirens, flashing lights, chaos.
The others ran.
I couldn't move.
I had never faced such a situation. I was heavy, my legs stuck to the ground. The police grabbed me and handcuffed me. I couldn't speak. Only one thought ran through my mind:
my mother.
All I wanted was that my family would never find out. My life could be ruined, I didn't care—but I couldn't let my mother's heart break. As the police led me away, I prayed silently that my parents would never learn.
They took me to an interrogation room. Cold, bright, and unfamiliar. Sitting there, for the first time, I truly realized the depth of the mess I was in. My hands still trembled. Tears would not stop flowing.
They began asking detailed questions.
"How did you get involved in this?"
"Have you done this before?"
"Who else was with you?"
Every question felt like a knife. I was crying, like a child. I didn't have the courage to lie. I told them the truth: this was my first mistake. I had never stolen before. I was desperate. I needed money.
I folded my hands and pleaded,
"Please, let me go. I promise I will never do this again. I just want to study. I am not a bad person."
But the police showed no mercy. They listened, took notes, but to them, it was just another case. To me, it was my entire life. When they said I could not be released, something inside me broke.
A while later, they left the room. I was alone. In that silence, even my own breathing sounded loud. I looked at my hands and thought: how did these hands commit such a mistake?
Then they returned.
They told me my family had been called.
Hearing this, my world went dark. The one thing I had most desperately tried to hide was now in front of me. The phone was placed in my hands.
It was my mother.
As soon as she heard my voice, she screamed and cried loudly. The sound of her sobs tore me apart. She kept asking,
"Son, what happened? Are you okay?"
I couldn't speak. Tears fell silently. In that moment, I realized completely: my real trouble had begun. Being arrested was only the start—the real punishment was the pain in my mother's voice.
At that moment, I understood: I had not just become a criminal in the eyes of the law…
I had become a criminal in my mother's dreams as well.A few days passed.
My parents were still trying to understand what had happened, but they didn't ask many questions. Instead, they did what they had always done for me—they borrowed more money. The people they already owed were pressuring them day and night, demanding that their debts be repaid immediately. Their voices were harsh, their patience gone.
Despite all this, my parents went to new people and asked for loans again. They swallowed their pride, listened to insults, and accepted humiliation, because they had no choice. They needed money to hire a lawyer for me.
Every loan they took felt like another chain around their lives, but they didn't hesitate. Not once. They were fighting for me while I sat behind cold walls, unable to help them in any way.
Knowing that my parents were drowning deeper in debt because of me was more painful than the handcuffs.
That was when I realized my mistake wasn't just mine anymore—
it had become my family's burden too.
From here, my life changed."