When I first entered the cryptocurrency world, I had only one thought - to make some quick money. 100,000 yuan was not savings in my eyes, but a springboard, a shortcut, a starting point for a turnaround.
I chased trends, trusted tips, and increased my operations, thinking every day that the next trade would bring me back.
The result came quickly. So quick that it didn't give you time to react. The day my account hit zero, I stared blankly at the screen for a long time.
In the next second, I smashed my phone on the ground, the sound of the screen shattering was more jarring than any notification tone.
I deleted all exchanges, turned off everything related to market trends,
locked myself in my room for two whole months, hardly stepping outside.
During that time, life felt gray.
There was light outside the window, but I felt dark.
What replayed repeatedly in my mind was,
not market trends,
but that persistent thought -
I had walked this path to my demise.
I began to doubt myself.
Doubt my judgment, doubt my choices,
even doubt whether I should have entered this circle from the very beginning.
But after calming down,
I slowly realized one thing:
What brought me to zero was not the market,
but my obsession with 'quickness'.
I treated luck as ability,
impulse as courage,
and recklessness as strategy.
And the market simply accepted everything as it was.
In those two months later,
I didn't look at any charts again.
I only repeatedly reviewed one thing -
where exactly did I go wrong.
It was also during those quietest days that I first understood: this market is not short of opportunities, but short of people who can slow down.
