When that red candlestick came crashing down, I was eating instant noodles
Late one night in October 2026, I was staring at LAZIO’s price chart on my screen. The instant noodles in my hands had gone cold.
It fell from 0.54 to 0.378—a full 30% drop. The chat group was full of people freaking out. Some were cursing, some were posting crying-face memes, and others were saying, “This coin is dead. Cut your losses now.”
I didn’t sell.
Not because I was especially confident, but because I had no money left to buy more. I’d put three months’ salary into it, and now I was down 40%. I didn’t even have any ammo left to add to my position.
I couldn’t sleep that night. My head was filled with all kinds of voices: one said, “Get out now—you can still save some of it,” while another said, “You’ve already lost so much. If you sell now, that’s when the loss becomes real.” The two voices argued all night, and by dawn, I’d made a decision.
I took out next month’s rent and went all in at 0.38.
When my wife found out, we had a huge fight. She said I was crazy. My mom called and scolded me for being so irresponsible, saying cryptocurrency was just gambling. My friends didn’t understand why I’d buy more during a crash.
I couldn’t explain it. I just felt that if a coin could fall from 0.54 to 0.378 in a single day, then either it was really going to zero, or the crash had created a golden buying opportunity. And with Juventus behind LAZIO, I didn’t think it was likely to go to zero.
For the next three days, I checked the price almost every half hour. 0.39, 0.40, 0.41—it was slowly climbing. My hopes rose along with it, little by little, but I didn’t dare get too optimistic. I was afraid it was just a dead-cat bounce.
On the morning of the fourth day, I woke up to my phone vibrating. I opened it and saw that LAZIO had climbed to 0.47.
I rubbed my eyes, thinking I must have read it wrong. I refreshed the screen. Still 0.47. I refreshed again: 0.475.
A 20% gain in a single day.
My account had gone from being down 40% to being up 25%. I didn’t feel overjoyed in that moment. Instead, it all felt unreal. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff for three days and nights, then suddenly having someone pull you back—you still can’t quite believe you’re safe.
I sold half and paid the rent back. I decided to hold on to the rest.
When my wife saw I’d made money, she smiled and said, “I knew you had a good eye.” I said nothing, but thought to myself: That’s not what you were saying a few days ago.
LAZIO is still going up, and the people in the group who were yelling to cut their losses are now shouting, “Target: 1!” Watching how quickly they change their tune suddenly struck me as hilarious.
That’s just how cryptocurrency is: when prices crash, everyone says to run; when they soar, everyone turns bullish. The people who actually make money are always the ones who stay calm in a panic and see opportunity in despair.
Of course, I know I got lucky this time. I might not be so lucky next time.
But at least this time, I was greedy when others were fearful—and I made it through.
#LAZIO #抄底 #CryptoStories
Late one night in October 2026, I was staring at LAZIO’s price chart on my screen. The instant noodles in my hands had gone cold.
It fell from 0.54 to 0.378—a full 30% drop. The chat group was full of people freaking out. Some were cursing, some were posting crying-face memes, and others were saying, “This coin is dead. Cut your losses now.”
I didn’t sell.
Not because I was especially confident, but because I had no money left to buy more. I’d put three months’ salary into it, and now I was down 40%. I didn’t even have any ammo left to add to my position.
I couldn’t sleep that night. My head was filled with all kinds of voices: one said, “Get out now—you can still save some of it,” while another said, “You’ve already lost so much. If you sell now, that’s when the loss becomes real.” The two voices argued all night, and by dawn, I’d made a decision.
I took out next month’s rent and went all in at 0.38.
When my wife found out, we had a huge fight. She said I was crazy. My mom called and scolded me for being so irresponsible, saying cryptocurrency was just gambling. My friends didn’t understand why I’d buy more during a crash.
I couldn’t explain it. I just felt that if a coin could fall from 0.54 to 0.378 in a single day, then either it was really going to zero, or the crash had created a golden buying opportunity. And with Juventus behind LAZIO, I didn’t think it was likely to go to zero.
For the next three days, I checked the price almost every half hour. 0.39, 0.40, 0.41—it was slowly climbing. My hopes rose along with it, little by little, but I didn’t dare get too optimistic. I was afraid it was just a dead-cat bounce.
On the morning of the fourth day, I woke up to my phone vibrating. I opened it and saw that LAZIO had climbed to 0.47.
I rubbed my eyes, thinking I must have read it wrong. I refreshed the screen. Still 0.47. I refreshed again: 0.475.
A 20% gain in a single day.
My account had gone from being down 40% to being up 25%. I didn’t feel overjoyed in that moment. Instead, it all felt unreal. It was like standing at the edge of a cliff for three days and nights, then suddenly having someone pull you back—you still can’t quite believe you’re safe.
I sold half and paid the rent back. I decided to hold on to the rest.
When my wife saw I’d made money, she smiled and said, “I knew you had a good eye.” I said nothing, but thought to myself: That’s not what you were saying a few days ago.
LAZIO is still going up, and the people in the group who were yelling to cut their losses are now shouting, “Target: 1!” Watching how quickly they change their tune suddenly struck me as hilarious.
That’s just how cryptocurrency is: when prices crash, everyone says to run; when they soar, everyone turns bullish. The people who actually make money are always the ones who stay calm in a panic and see opportunity in despair.
Of course, I know I got lucky this time. I might not be so lucky next time.
But at least this time, I was greedy when others were fearful—and I made it through.
#LAZIO #抄底 #CryptoStories