When the market is good, I am a reincarnation of a financial genius.

At 3 a.m., I get up to pee and casually check my holdings, the green gains reflecting on my face like I’m wearing an emerald mask.
I post screenshots of my holdings on social media, only showing half, with the caption “Lightly holding, just playing around,” but in reality, I’ve already leveraged five times.
Someone in the group asks if I can chase the market, I casually reply, “Don’t try to predict the market, just feel its breathing.”—Actually, I don’t even know which candlestick volume bar is which.

When the market is bad, I am just a madman blinded by red.
Staring at my account jumping -5% every minute, trembling as I click on the loan record, I find I can borrow another 200 yuan, and I immediately top up to add to my position.
A friend advises me to cut losses, I glare at him: “What do you know? This is called an inverted triangle position increase, a discipline of professional traders!”
At 4 a.m., Bitcoin drops another 10%, I kneel by the bed, turn my phone brightness to the lowest, find a chat screenshot from three years ago where a fortune-teller said “You’ll have some luck with unexpected wealth in middle age,” and I look at it ten times—then I open the exchange and click to close all positions with full margin.

This is the logic of a gambler—rises are ability, drops are market manipulation; profits mean wisdom, losses mean the market maker is cheating.
Saying “profit and loss come from the same source,” I silently repeat “one last top-up.”
As long as the exchange hasn’t cut off the internet, I feel I am only one big bullish candle away from financial freedom.

(Crypto people, crypto soul. Don’t ask why I haven’t run yet—just doing “long-termism.”) #WCTCAI梗图挑战