If you’re broke, don’t be a trader.
The year was 2020, the world locked indoors, but the markets were alive, wild, chaotic, and unstoppable. I remember the glow of my laptop at 2 a.m., the screen casting long shadows on bare walls.
I was broke, and behind me was a woman I thought I loved, eyes heavy with dreams of marriage, a home, a future I couldn’t yet give.
Then the Bitcoin rally began, and with it, so did my hope.
A few trades… and suddenly, I wasn’t broke anymore; I was alive, flushed with numbers climbing higher, balances doubling overnight and for moments, I believed I had found the doorway out of my struggle.
But the broke man inside me wasn’t satisfied.
So, I risked more, each win felt like oxygen, each loss like suffocation.
And when the inevitable crash came, I didn’t stop, I couldn’t, so I borrowed more, chasing the illusion that I could get it all back, but I lost it all again.
And by the time it ended, I wasn’t just broke, I was buried under debt.
And the woman I thought I loved, she left my broke ass for an older man who could give her the stability I never could.
And that is when I learned the cruelest truth of trading: the market doesn’t just take your money… it exposes the weight you already carry.
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