The best traders are the ones who are still trading after ten years. The rest are just tourists.

I keep a graveyard in the cloud.
Folder named “Dead Accounts”, password-protected with the date of my first blow-up: 03-14-2018.
Inside:

• A Thinkorswim export titled “Pi Day Massacre – NVDA 900c”
• A Binance CSV that ends at 0.00012 BTC
• A Robinhood PDF with the final line “Available for withdrawal: $9.87”

I open it once a year, like visiting a cemetery on All Saints.
Not for nostalgia.
For vaccination.

The market is a resort island with a ten-year residency requirement.
Tourists arrive in flip-flops and FOMO, waving $2k like it’s a platinum card.
They leave on the first red-eye after the first -60 % storm, sunburned and broke.
The locals?
We don’t tan.
We just keep paying the electric bill so the screens stay on.

I ran into one of the old tourists last month—CryptoChris from the 2021 Discord.
He’s a barista now.
Showed me his new tattoo: a diamond emoji over a scar.
Asked if I still trade.
I showed him my live DOM at 3:12 a.m.
He winced like I’d flashed a hospital bracelet.

My journal has a new section this year:
“Survivor’s Ledger”
Entries in black ink only—no red, no green.
Just dates and a single word: Alive.

• 2018: Alive.
• 2020: Alive.
• 2022: Alive.
• 2025: Alive.

No P&L.
No win rate.
Just proof the ferry didn’t sink.

Because the edge isn’t in the setup.
It’s in the stubborn refusal to delete the app after the tenth margin call.

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