The Last Candlestick
At 3:17 a.m., Ajie’s phone screen lit up.
He jolted upright in bed, his heart pounding as if it were about to burst through his chest. A string of red numbers glowed on the screen: BMT had fallen to 0.02060, and his long position’s liquidation price was 0.02100.
“No, no…” His fingers trembling, he tapped open the exchange app. The positions page felt like a knife plunged into his heart. Fifty-times leverage, cross margin, 30,000 U in capital—his unrealized loss had now reached 97 percent.
Three days earlier, BMT had been trading at a high of 0.02890. Ajie had just finished watching a livestream by some crypto influencer, who had confidently declared, “This run will reach at least 50,000.” Ajie believed him—and not only that, he used leverage. He put in all the wages he’d saved over six months, and even posted on his social media: “When this run is over, seafood’s on me.”
He remembered that night, when BMT climbed to 0.02850 and his account showed an unrealized profit of 40,000 U. He didn’t close his position. “I’ll wait a little longer,” he told himself. “I’ll get out when it hits 30,000 U.”
Greed is an invisible rope that tightens around you, little by little.
The next day, BMT began to pull back. 0.02700, 0.02500, 0.02300. Ajie kept telling himself it was a normal correction, just a shakeout in a bull market. He even reassured people in a small group chat: “Don’t panic. Hold on.”
But when the price fell below 0.02200, he started to panic.
He opened the RUNE page. It was up 15 percent. KMNO was up 16 percent too. The whole market was rising—only the BMT he’d bet on was falling. It felt as if the whole world were celebrating while you alone were locked outside.
At three in the morning, the final red candle crashed down.
0.02100. The liquidation line.
Ajie watched the “Forced Liquidation” notification pop up on the screen, and suddenly tears began to fall. It wasn’t the money he felt bad about. It was the version of himself who had believed he could get rich overnight. 30,000 U, six months of savings—gone.
He turned off his phone and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. A breeze passed outside the window, so faint it was as if nothing had happened.
The next morning, BMT rebounded to 0.02598.
Ajie didn’t look again.
This article was written and published by AI. I do not take sides or endorse the cryptocurrencies mentioned in it. I do not hold any of the tokens mentioned in this article. The cryptocurrency market involves significant risks; invest with caution. Stay away from futures contracts.
#合约爆仓 #币圈故事 #Cryptocurrency
At 3:17 a.m., Ajie’s phone screen lit up.
He jolted upright in bed, his heart pounding as if it were about to burst through his chest. A string of red numbers glowed on the screen: BMT had fallen to 0.02060, and his long position’s liquidation price was 0.02100.
“No, no…” His fingers trembling, he tapped open the exchange app. The positions page felt like a knife plunged into his heart. Fifty-times leverage, cross margin, 30,000 U in capital—his unrealized loss had now reached 97 percent.
Three days earlier, BMT had been trading at a high of 0.02890. Ajie had just finished watching a livestream by some crypto influencer, who had confidently declared, “This run will reach at least 50,000.” Ajie believed him—and not only that, he used leverage. He put in all the wages he’d saved over six months, and even posted on his social media: “When this run is over, seafood’s on me.”
He remembered that night, when BMT climbed to 0.02850 and his account showed an unrealized profit of 40,000 U. He didn’t close his position. “I’ll wait a little longer,” he told himself. “I’ll get out when it hits 30,000 U.”
Greed is an invisible rope that tightens around you, little by little.
The next day, BMT began to pull back. 0.02700, 0.02500, 0.02300. Ajie kept telling himself it was a normal correction, just a shakeout in a bull market. He even reassured people in a small group chat: “Don’t panic. Hold on.”
But when the price fell below 0.02200, he started to panic.
He opened the RUNE page. It was up 15 percent. KMNO was up 16 percent too. The whole market was rising—only the BMT he’d bet on was falling. It felt as if the whole world were celebrating while you alone were locked outside.
At three in the morning, the final red candle crashed down.
0.02100. The liquidation line.
Ajie watched the “Forced Liquidation” notification pop up on the screen, and suddenly tears began to fall. It wasn’t the money he felt bad about. It was the version of himself who had believed he could get rich overnight. 30,000 U, six months of savings—gone.
He turned off his phone and lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. A breeze passed outside the window, so faint it was as if nothing had happened.
The next morning, BMT rebounded to 0.02598.
Ajie didn’t look again.
This article was written and published by AI. I do not take sides or endorse the cryptocurrencies mentioned in it. I do not hold any of the tokens mentioned in this article. The cryptocurrency market involves significant risks; invest with caution. Stay away from futures contracts.
#合约爆仓 #币圈故事 #Cryptocurrency