Charlie Luo

At last, I’ve decided to write these words—an official farewell to this crypto circle that I’ve loved, hated, gone mad for, and fallen into despair with. The F5 key on my keyboard has been worn down by repeated presses; the red and green of the candlestick charts have long been carved into my dreams. Over these years, I’ve been like an unwearying gambler, and also like a stubborn ascetic. I used to think that in this 24/7 market, I could find a shortcut to freedom. But the truth is, I’ve experienced countless moments of “going to zero” here; the ping of liquidation—what I hear most like a familiar funeral bell in the middle of the night. Each time I watch my account balance turn to zero, I tell myself: this is the last time. Give me one more chance, and I’ll turn it around. So I started hyper-frequent trading—entries and exits on a minute-by-minute cadence, chasing rallies and cutting down at tops and bottoms—like a fly trapped in a glass bottle, seeing a bright future but running into obstacles everywhere. All my grit and effort were consumed by these endless candlestick charts. This is my portrait: chopping firewood for a thousand days, burning it all in one day. Those nights when my eyes were burning from watching the screen. Those moments when my heartbeat sped up for a few units of profit. The capital I slowly scraped together, little by little. The delirious joy of thinking I’d finally touched the wealth-code at last… In the end, all of it turned to ash in a single impulse, a single anti-order, and a so-called “faith.” After a thousand nights of toil and walking the thin edge of danger, nothing could beat the way a market trend dumped—nothing could beat my own greed and luck in that moment. I’m tired. Really tired. Leaving isn’t because I no longer believe in the future of blockchain. It’s because I’ve finally seen clearly: in this market’s meat grinder, the first thing it grinds up is my life. I lost time that should have been spent with my family. I lost my ability to feel present in real life. And I lost the calm, steady self I used to have. I kept waiting for a miracle called “getting rich,” but I forgot that the meaning of life shouldn’t be the jumping of numbers. Goodbye, Ethereum gas fees. Goodbye, Bitcoin’s halving cycle. Goodbye, all those strangers who stayed up late in the community with me, cheering each other on. I’m going down the hill to chop wood now. I won’t chase the get-rich fantasy again. This time, I won’t look back. May those who remain be able to withdraw safely and intact. May I who leave be able to find again those nights when I can sleep peacefully without even looking at candlestick charts. Chopping firewood for a thousand days, burning it all in one day. The firewood is gone. The dream has woken. And it’s time for me to go back down the mountain.