In October, I gave up going home and skipped get-togethers with friends. Alone in my rented apartment, I went all in on dog coins. Everyone was saying the big one was coming, and I’d never taken it this seriously. But then what? I’ve been glued to the charts for five days—where’s this big one, and where did my money go? I can’t even go home now. I’m just sitting in my rented apartment, staring blankly at the mind-numbing candlestick chart, lighting a cigarette. It’ll be the 8th tomorrow, and rent’s due too.