#我的币圈搞笑瞬间

“My Profit Disappeared Slowly, My Sanity Disappeared Faster A Comedy Written by Pain”

Sometimes I think my journey in crypto is less about trading and more about character development, like the market is the main writer of my life story and I’m just a confused side character trying to make sense of the plot. I didn’t become a trader by passion at first, I became a trader by accident. One green pump caught me off guard, made me feel smart, and before I knew it, I was emotionally attached to charts like they were the only thing keeping me alive.

It didn’t destroy me in a dramatic crash. No. That would have been too easy, too cinematic. Instead, the market preferred the slow torture method. Every time I thought “this is the bottom,” it showed me a new basement. Every time I whispered “it can’t drop more,” it dropped with confidence. Red candles didn’t just take my money; they took my expectations, my illusions, and whatever was left of my sense of control.

There was a time when I looked at my portfolio and felt proud of myself. I imagined an upgraded lifestyle, made plans, even thought about how I would celebrate the “inevitable victory.” The market must have heard those thoughts, because the moment I started to dream too loudly, reality hit me like a margin call I didn’t see coming.

I’ve lived through every emotional phase in a loop: excitement turning into greed, greed turning into confidence, confidence turning into denial, denial turning into panic, and panic turning into numbness. Eventually, you don’t even react. You just stare at the chart, expressionless, like someone who has seen too much to be surprised anymore.

I have mastered the art of selling at the bottom and holding through every wrong moment. I have watched my unrealized gains transform into unrealized regrets with perfect timing, as if the market knows exactly when to remind me of my failures. It’s almost funny, if you remove the part where my bank balance is involved.

People in the real world talk about hobbies, plans, and holidays. Meanwhile, I calculate how different my life would have been if I had clicked the sell button at the right time instead of trusting “my long-term vision.” It is absurd how fast you can lose money when you fully believe you won’t.

And yet, what confuses me the most is that after everything, after all the emotional bruises, I’m still here. I still check the charts when I wake up, even before I check if I’m alive. I still refresh prices like they owe me closure. I still get a strange rush when I see green candles, even though I know how temporary they can be.
Maybe it’s hope.
Maybe it’s addiction.
Maybe it’s the belief that one day, after all the mistakes, something will finally go right.

Every trader who has survived long enough carries one quiet dream, whether they admit it or not: that one cycle in the future might finally make up for every cycle that broke them. Not for the luxury or the flex, but for that simple moment when the portfolio turns green and you finally feel like you didn’t suffer for nothing.

Until then, I’m still here. Not because I’m fearless, not because I’m lucky, but because after going through every worst scenario possible, losing isn’t scary anymore. What’s left is endurance and a bizarre kind of loyalty that only someone who has truly been burned by the market can understand.

Maybe the next cycle will reward us.
Maybe it won’t.
But if nothing else, at least I know this much: I didn’t quit. I stayed, I fought, I learned, I adapted. And in the world of crypto, where most disappear long before success arrives, simply surviving isn’t just a result sometimes it is the only victory that matters.