In the sweltering wind of 2018, I carried five thousand hard-earned dollars—that was all the hope I had saved up from late-night overtime, rushing into the cryptocurrency world with reckless enthusiasm.
At that time, Bitcoin was only over three thousand dollars, and I almost poured all my savings into it, getting back two Bitcoins.
Three months later, it rose to eight thousand, and I didn't sell.
Being young, I always felt the ceiling was still far away.
During that time, I fantasized every day: once it doubles, I will quit my job.
But before I could fulfill my wish, the market crashed.
The "Mentougou Incident" was like a bucket of ice water, directly waking me from my dream.
I panicked, sold off my position for four thousand, and ended up with only three thousand of my principal.
Later, I realized that my "panic sell" had cost me over six million in the future.
Seven years have passed, the market tossed me up to the sky and then slammed me down to the ground.
But these years have also taught me how to survive.
I have seen friends mortgage their houses, only to be liquidated overnight, with their wives and children leaving.
I have also seen that guy in the group who boasted every day as a "crypto tycoon," showing off profits one day and evaporating the next.
At that time, I truly understood—the first lesson in trading cryptocurrencies is not about making money, but about surviving.
In 2021, when Dogecoin skyrocketed, I couldn't resist my greed and waited for it to reach one dollar.
As a result, the profits evaporated right before my eyes.
Now, I would rather miss out than stubbornly hold on.
Taking profits and cutting losses is the survival bottom line, not a sign of weakness.
A friend leveraged 20 times on the day LUNA crashed, losing 800,000 in 10 minutes.
At that moment, I understood that leverage is not wings, but a noose.
During the FTX collapse, I had three thousand dollars trapped on the platform, and I still haven't retrieved it.
Since then, I no longer keep coins on exchanges; cold wallets, though troublesome, can bring a stable sleep.
Now when I see someone in the group shouting "major good news," I just directly cross it out.
Because every time retail investors hear good news, it often signals harvesting.
Over the years, I have witnessed too many people rise and fall.
Some flaunted wealth in Porsches, while others deleted their accounts after liquidation.
But in the end, those who can remain are not the smartest, nor the luckiest, but the most patient.
Perhaps I missed six million, but in this 24-hour sleepless market, being able to steadily survive is the greatest victory.
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