All men must serve.
I was not a part of ZFT. I lived in my own bubble overseeing the existence of different realms. I watched him too, along with the many others. Some I know intimately, some I grazed with light touch.
In the stock market, different realities existed. They live, thrive, destroy, coincide with each other. I glided all over them. Watching patiently. Understanding what they all stood for.
And then, after a particularly desperate moment, I broke my equilibrium and dove down the waters.
It hasn’t been a long time since his realm and mine kissed.
I can still remember it clearly.
ZF was a thing of mystery to me. He had a certain level of angst that I did not understand, and as my naivety drove me towards embracing chaos, it took me a while to realize that this was not how it should be. The chaos was created afterwards, when debris and destruction was left to be fed to us.
For their benefit. For their entertainment.
The entire truth was, I was blinded for a moment by people who had nothing but their names to back up what they have to say– to shush you when you wonder. Questions are not entertained. There was one answer to our every question: his name, his name, his name.
I wondered for a long time, how could I trust a nameless, faceless person in a realm of zero-sum game?
This was the question that played on my mind as I doubted… and watched. And watched.
I took my time watching, all the while nursing my wounds from the chaos I had to endure. Sit down, Celeste. Do not raise your hand in question.
But slowly, I was starting to wake up. The band of people, all nameless, all faceless, was a slap in the face of the gurus’ ‘honesty’. Because why am I hurting here? When there seems to be another way?
The only mystery was their faces, not in their game. From where I was, the mystery was the game, not the faces. And their faces did not give me results. In fact, I was one of those first in line to get hit.
First in line to defend. Deep inside, I couldn’t help but question. Why am I here?
And who are the ZFT? How did they know I was going to lose even before I entered? How did we enter the same stock, but I came out losing?
I judged him as a dark character before I knew him. He laughed at those fools who remained blinded. He was both angry and mocking… Fools like me.
Fools like me.
And I had a lot of pride for a girl.
Pride never paid well in the market, we get punished for our mistakes so very dearly.
I dove into the water and held my breath. Finally making that move, I was dancing carefully around him.
C: I know you’re capable, the market was blood red, but you still walk around in victory.
Z: How can I help?
And that was that question.
I never really realized that he wanted to help.
That I was a nameless, faceless person too– and my doubts about him could be his same doubts about me.
In the end, between us, he had more to lose than I ever did.
A strange friendship developed between me and Zee. I had a better glimpse of the mysterious world he ran. There was a cacophony of different people with dark humor that you would only understand once your eyes are opened.
Every body stripped off of their ego.
Each and every one as wounded as I am.
But it was a basin filled with people who fell down and got back up again.
I now understand his anger. I finally understood every thing once I saw the letters he receive on an every day basis.
People on the verge of suicide, people crying as they ask for help, people who held on to their losses, people who stopped eating for days. Hype victims. Retirement money. Life savings. House money.
Help me, Zee. Help me, Zee. Help me.
If you saw the amount of people bleeding in front of him, there will be fire building in your hearts, waiting to explode on the influential people who drove those people broken this way.
I only saw the surface. I only saw the anger.
I didn’t see the bodies below. Letter after letter, people begged to be saved. “I have millions lost.” “My husband will never forgive me.” “This was supposed to be for my retirement, I lived 30 years abroad. Now all lost.”
The world weighed on his shoulders.
This is Part 1. Part 2 of the write-up will be more about the tribe or as I would rather call it– The House of Z.