Category: A Traders Journey
Nasdaq100 [Female narrator sighs] this bad girl was born on 8th of February, 1971. At that time she was worth just—$708.16. Chilling, I mean she’d go to every bar to flaunt her beauty, such a tease!
The babe needed the whole world to know she existed. Guess what? she got noticed.
Everyone started to pay attention—street guys, thugs, jay-walkers name them… a sad turn-of-event, In 1973, Yup! the mama crashed. 400 points were deducted from her (stock market crash) net worth. These notice-pad took advantage of her. Bad timing if you ask me. As an observer, The deduction came after the collapse of the Bretton-woods brothers system accompanied by the October 1973, oil-crisis. Like I said, “a sad turn-of-event”. Anyway,
It only lasted for a year but took months (11 months) though. Nas100 came back with a surge—I’ve never seen that kind of glow up in years. The beauty that she is—doubled her net worth by 5580 points (December of ’74-September, 2002).
Honestly, like I muttered, “never saw that one coming”.
Trade [stuttering] I’m a trader… Oh! nice to meet you too. “That was awkward”, I thought. How did she know I was a trader? I rarely meet people who just automatically figure me out. The first encounter was a strange one.
[Feet shuffling, Choo-choo… clickety-clack—train bawls]
“Attention, passengers: this is your conductor speaking. The train is about to leave the station. Please stand clear of the closing doors.”
I’ve never really left the state you know, ancient times and all. My life has been an endless maze or better yet—a labyrinth.Don’t worry, heh—still working on the nemesis.
Traders randomly wake up and call it quits. Well, I was this close to becoming those traders until…
[A loud knock on the door]
“Mail’s here!”… A man in orange pants and blue collars brings a letter for me. “What could it be?”, I thought. Took a cutter out the kitchen’s cabinet and tore it open—It read, “Hey sweetie, if you’re reading this, I’m probably dead”… Tears rushed down my cheek as I said, “mom”.
You probably don’t know my mom Sylvia—she’s one of the best traders that ever lived and she is my inspiration. It was a note from her trade journal—My mom kept journals but, I never read any Cos’ personally, journals are private for a reason. If she sent me this, now, it means it’s for a reason. Though dead—it’s like she knows I’m really struggling.
Turned on the reading lamp, cleaned my bulged teary eyes and read aloud…