Five years ago, I entered my apprenticeship at age of around 15. I began my path at the margins—socially isolated, overlooked both at school and work. Group projects reminded me of my place: others already partnered up, while I searched for a spot. I rarely spoke, even when my working colleagues were just meters away. I preferred messaging over speaking directly. I was not just quiet—I was invisible.

My grades reflected my mindset: mediocre, unfocused. I passed, but barely. During lessons, I found myself drifting through Reddit, where I stumbled onto r/TheRedPill. At first, I skimmed posts out of boredom. But over time, I returned with intention. Something in me wanted more—more out of life, more out of myself.

So I decided to test the philosophy.

I began with training—down in a basement, lifting pink 5kg dumbbells with no exact fitness plan, just the desire to change something. Weeks later, I noticed my arms tightening when I stretched. At first, I thought something was wrong. But then I realised, that it wasn’t pain, it was growth. Real muscle. For the first time in a long time, I felt proud.

In my second year, I started eating lunch with two classmates. At first, they ignored me—looked away when I spoke, brushed me off. And why wouldn’t they? I was no one. No friends, poor grades, no hobbies, no club membership. I hadn’t earned respect.

But one day, during lunch, we spoke about muscles and training. One of them showed off his lean arms. I flexed mine and they stared. I had more muscle than him. When asked, I said I trained “from time to time.” I didn’t explain how often. I let results speak.

As training became routine, I upgraded—bench, weights, structure. I began speaking more, listening better, locking eyes during conversations. I still wasn’t loud, but I was present. People responded. Peers began treating me with dignity. The silent outsider turned into someone worth noticing.

The Red Pill didn’t just teach me discipline—it gave me an understanding of status, discipline and most important, a framework for real-world respect. It reminded me that self-improvement earns attention. Not flashy words. Results.

Years later after my apprenticeship, I still talk to one of those two classmates. We built something real. I’m no longer drifting—I’ve taken control.

To those who post regularly, especially Vermillion-Rx: Thank you. You don’t know the lives you impact. But I promise you, you turned some really lost teenagers and young men into men with a direction. That matters. Thanks.