It took me three years to understand that the most expensive thing in the crypto world isn’t Bitcoin—it’s the lesson.
In the winter of 2024, I sat in a rented room in a Shenzhen urban village, staring at the SAND candlestick chart on my phone. At that time, SAND had already fallen by ninety percent from its peak. Everyone said the metaverse was dead, GameFi was over, and this coin going to zero was just a matter of time.
But for some reason, I didn’t believe it.
I quit my job, and I went all-in on SAND with all eighty thousand yuan I’d saved over half a year. My average price was $0.03. Full position. My mom called and asked what I was doing. I told her I was starting a business. She believed me.
After I bought it, SAND kept dropping. From $0.03 to $0.02, then to $0.015. My account showed an unrealized loss of over fifty percent. Every morning I opened my eyes to green numbers. I started having insomnia, losing my hair, and wondering if I really was losing my mind.
During that period, I joined a dozen or so crypto groups. People came and went one after another. Some cursed me for being a sucker. Some posted screenshots of their profits. Some shared messages about opening positions on contracts. I looked at my SAND holdings and didn’t move. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sell. It was that if I sold, what good would it do? I’d already lost half—cut my losses and show it to who?
The turning point came in the spring of 2025. Suddenly, SAND started moving with volume. It surged from $0.015 up to $0.03, then broke through $0.05. The guys in my groups started asking, “Are you still holding?” I said, “I am.” They didn’t believe me—they told me to screenshot it. I did, and the group exploded.
By early 2026, SAND had climbed to $0.073. From my $0.03 cost basis, that was more than double. Eighty thousand became one hundred seventy thousand. I bought myself a new computer and treated my mom to a good meal. She asked how the business was going. I said, “It’s alright. I’m just back to breakeven now.”
But the story didn’t end there.
When SAND reached $0.08, I started getting cocky. I thought I was a genius. I believed the money I’d lost before was just tuition, and now I had recovered everything—with interest. I withdrew the entire one hundred seventy thousand, opened a twenty-times leverage long on SAND.
Then, just like that—one needle.
Within four hours, SAND crashed from $0.08 to $0.059. My liquidation price was $0.062. When the liquidation notice popped up, I was eating takeout. My chopsticks fell to the floor. I stared at the red text on the screen: the account balance was $0.00.
One hundred seventy thousand—gone.
I turned off my phone and lay in the room for two days. I didn’t eat, didn’t drink water, and didn’t talk to anyone. On the third morning, I opened my computer and saw that GLMR started bouncing from $0.00083. It jumped 36% in a day.
I stared at that green candlestick for a long time, then closed the browser.
Some money is destined to be paid back. The most important thing the crypto world taught me isn’t how to make money—it’s how to accept losses. Now I work for a company. I save a bit each month, check the market once in a while, and I don’t trade contracts anymore.
If you’re also awake at night losing money, remember this: staying alive is more important than making money.
#合约爆仓 #SAND #crypto story
In the winter of 2024, I sat in a rented room in a Shenzhen urban village, staring at the SAND candlestick chart on my phone. At that time, SAND had already fallen by ninety percent from its peak. Everyone said the metaverse was dead, GameFi was over, and this coin going to zero was just a matter of time.
But for some reason, I didn’t believe it.
I quit my job, and I went all-in on SAND with all eighty thousand yuan I’d saved over half a year. My average price was $0.03. Full position. My mom called and asked what I was doing. I told her I was starting a business. She believed me.
After I bought it, SAND kept dropping. From $0.03 to $0.02, then to $0.015. My account showed an unrealized loss of over fifty percent. Every morning I opened my eyes to green numbers. I started having insomnia, losing my hair, and wondering if I really was losing my mind.
During that period, I joined a dozen or so crypto groups. People came and went one after another. Some cursed me for being a sucker. Some posted screenshots of their profits. Some shared messages about opening positions on contracts. I looked at my SAND holdings and didn’t move. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sell. It was that if I sold, what good would it do? I’d already lost half—cut my losses and show it to who?
The turning point came in the spring of 2025. Suddenly, SAND started moving with volume. It surged from $0.015 up to $0.03, then broke through $0.05. The guys in my groups started asking, “Are you still holding?” I said, “I am.” They didn’t believe me—they told me to screenshot it. I did, and the group exploded.
By early 2026, SAND had climbed to $0.073. From my $0.03 cost basis, that was more than double. Eighty thousand became one hundred seventy thousand. I bought myself a new computer and treated my mom to a good meal. She asked how the business was going. I said, “It’s alright. I’m just back to breakeven now.”
But the story didn’t end there.
When SAND reached $0.08, I started getting cocky. I thought I was a genius. I believed the money I’d lost before was just tuition, and now I had recovered everything—with interest. I withdrew the entire one hundred seventy thousand, opened a twenty-times leverage long on SAND.
Then, just like that—one needle.
Within four hours, SAND crashed from $0.08 to $0.059. My liquidation price was $0.062. When the liquidation notice popped up, I was eating takeout. My chopsticks fell to the floor. I stared at the red text on the screen: the account balance was $0.00.
One hundred seventy thousand—gone.
I turned off my phone and lay in the room for two days. I didn’t eat, didn’t drink water, and didn’t talk to anyone. On the third morning, I opened my computer and saw that GLMR started bouncing from $0.00083. It jumped 36% in a day.
I stared at that green candlestick for a long time, then closed the browser.
Some money is destined to be paid back. The most important thing the crypto world taught me isn’t how to make money—it’s how to accept losses. Now I work for a company. I save a bit each month, check the market once in a while, and I don’t trade contracts anymore.
If you’re also awake at night losing money, remember this: staying alive is more important than making money.
#合约爆仓 #SAND #crypto story