On Friday night, which should have been the most relaxing time of the week, I stared at the glaring red on the trading software, my fingers cold, even my breath trembling. On the screen, gold plummeted nearly 12%, and silver even plunged 36%, setting a record for the largest single-day decline in nearly 40 years. Meanwhile, my account, under the pressure of high leverage, was no longer just a liquidation but a complete collapse— not only had tens of millions of personal assets turned to ashes, but I also owed the platform money. After the final settlement, all I had left was the down payment for a house.
I curled up on the sofa in my study, afraid to turn on the light, afraid to make a sound. In the living room, my wife was still tidying up the children's toys, humming a cheerful song. She still didn't know that the sky of this family had already collapsed.
All of this started with my greed for leverage and my obsession with the soaring gold and silver.
Since the beginning of this year, gold has soared wildly, with a monthly increase of over 25%, and silver has skyrocketed by 63%. Friends around me and the 'teachers' in the group keep shouting, 'The bull market for gold and silver has arrived,' 'Just close your eyes and go long to make a profit.' I watch the numbers in my account swell day by day, rolling from millions to tens of millions. That feeling of getting rich overnight completely lost me. I forgot about the risks, forgot my wife's advice to 'take the profit when it's good,' only thinking about betting again to double the profits.
I threw all my wealth into it and leveraged it dozens of times. I naively thought that silver, being small in volume and volatile, would allow me to make a fortune as long as I followed the trend. I even mocked those conservative investors, thinking they didn’t understand the joy of 'small bets for big returns.' I stared at the K-line every day, stayed up late watching the market, putting all my energy into trading while neglecting my family and life, with only those fluctuating numbers in my eyes.
I thought I was a winner in the market, but I didn't realize that I was merely a lamb waiting to be slaughtered under the capital's sickle.
On Friday afternoon, news of personnel changes at the Federal Reserve came, combined with the exchange suddenly raising margin ratios, gold was raised from 6% to 8%, and silver from 11% to 15%. High-leverage players were forced to close their positions, and the market immediately fell into a stampede of 'long killing long.' Prices fell like a kite with a broken string, with stop-loss orders triggered by algorithmic trading densely packed, forming a death spiral of 'decline - liquidation - further decline.'
I watched helplessly as the numbers in my account shrank at a visible speed, from tens of millions to millions, then to hundreds of thousands, and finally into negative numbers. I wanted to close my positions, but liquidity was exhausted, making it impossible to sell; I wanted to add to my positions, but I had already exhausted my resources. The system's forced liquidation notifications popped up one after another, each one like a knife stabbing my heart.
In just a few hours, I transformed from a 'successful person' with tens of millions into a penniless beggar.
After liquidating all assets and deducting the debts owed to the platform, I was left with only the down payment money I used to buy a house, which was the only thing I could leave to my family. I sat in the study, my hair turning white overnight, my mind filled with my wife's gentle smile, my children's innocent words, and the days when we worked hard together to save up for our first bucket of gold.
I remember my wife telling me countless times: 'As long as the money is enough, don’t be too greedy, safety is the most important.' I recall how when she saw my account profits, she gently said, 'Don’t be too tired,' without a hint of greed, only full of concern. Yet I treated her words like the wind blowing past my ears, blinded by greed, and ruined everything we had worked hard for.
I dare not tell her the truth. I fear seeing the disappointment in her eyes, fear her breaking down and crying, fear my children asking me, 'Daddy, where is our money?' I can only pretend that everything is normal, forcing a smile to have dinner with her and play with the kids, but the pain and regret inside me drown me like a tide.
I have asked myself countless times, why leverage? Why be insatiably greedy? If I had taken the profits, withdrawn the money, bought my family a big house, and taken the kids on a trip, how wonderful that would have been. But there is no medicine for regrets in this world; I personally turned tens of millions into a down payment and turned a happy life into a nightmare.
This bloody Friday's crash not only made me lose my wealth but also made me see the greed of human nature and the cruelty of leverage. Leverage is a double-edged sword, capable of making you rich overnight or bringing you to zero in a night, even leaving you in debt. The so-called 'bull market' and 'high profits' are just traps set by capital, specifically designed to harvest ordinary people like me who are greedy.
Now, I live every day in guilt and fear. I know that paper can’t cover fire forever; one day, I will have to confess everything to my wife. I am prepared to be blamed and complained about by her, even ready for her to leave me. I just hope she can give me a chance to turn over a new leaf, allowing me to use the rest of my life to make up for my mistakes and protect the home I have destroyed.
Written for all those still struggling in the leveraged market: Don't be blinded by high profits, don't be consumed by greed. Family safety and a stable life are the greatest wealth. Winning in a leveraged gamble is a temporary thrill, losing brings a lifetime of regret.
And I am the most painful lesson.