#Gate用户突破6000万
《I Sold Dogecoin at ¥0.02, Then Watched It Rise to ¥5—The Self-Cultivation of a Leek One in 60 Million》
In 2018, I bought the first cryptocurrency of my life on Gate. It wasn't BTC or ETH. It was a dog—Dogecoin, at ¥0.05 per coin.
That year, I had just entered the crypto space, with my head full of “blockchain will change the world.” I opened my market app, saw DOGE’s logo sticking its tongue out at me, and instantly decided this was the coin chosen by fate: Look, even dogs are entering the crypto world. How could this industry not take off?
Later, its price action told me: I don't know whether it would take off, but it was definitely a dog.
It kept drifting downward. My account balance went from “plump” to “slim,” and finally straight to “bony”—much faster than the gym membership I bought ever produced results. I checked the market three times a day, which was like making my heart do three sets of push-ups. Finally, on a dark and stormy night, I nervously sold at ¥0.02, taking a 60% loss. But I fed myself a bowl of motivational soup: “This is called cutting losses in time. Even Buffett would approve.”
At the time, I thought I had dodged a landmine. Later, the facts proved that what I dodged was a rocket. 🚀
In 2021, the whole world was shouting, “Doge to the moon.” Musk promoted it on TV, retail investors banded together to call for buys, the entire internet turned it into a meme, and Dogecoin went on a wild run, peaking at nearly ¥5—or, to be precise, around ¥4.70. But people who have been hurt carry a built-in nostalgia filter; in my heart, it was worth ¥5.
I did the math on my fingers: If I had left the ¥1,000 I invested back then untouched, my account would have held roughly ¥95,000 at the peak. On the night I sold, I had only ¥400 left.
¥94,000 was gone, “cut away” by my own hands. I slapped my thighs raw, took an arrow to the knee, and regretted it to the point of turning my intestines green—the bed frame that night was greener than my holdings.
Looking back calmly, this story can't be blamed entirely on Dogecoin. I was mainly responsible for three things:
First, I mistook panic for discipline.
There was nothing wrong with cutting losses itself. The mistake was that my reason wasn't “the logic has changed,” but “I panicked.” Genuine stop-loss selling is part of a plan; panic selling is merely paying tuition to the market, without even getting a receipt.
Second, I bought absolutely nothing.
I had no idea what I was buying—not that it was a community-driven meme culture, nor that behind it was a group of people who had turned a joke into a belief system. I did no homework before buying, so naturally I couldn't hold through the drop. The essence of not being able to hold is that you never truly believed in it in the first place.
Third, I put all my hopes on a “what if.”
Going all in feels great for a moment; when it drops, it's a funeral. Position management isn't cowardice—it ensures that when a genuine opportunity arrives, you still have bullets in your gun.
In the crypto world, the most expensive lesson is called the “sell-too-early tax”—you pay the tuition yourself and tell the joke yourself. But from another perspective, in 2018 I used ¥94,000 in tuition to buy a lesson that will benefit me for life: Don't take a large position in what you don't understand; don't panic-sell what you have a large position in; and before you panic, ask yourself—is the market changing, or is my heartbeat making the decision for me?
Eight years later, Gate has transformed from the “niche exchange” it was back then into a multi-asset ecosystem platform with over 60 million users worldwide and coverage of more than ten thousand stock assets. I, too, have grown from the hotheaded kid who “went all in on Dogecoin at ¥0.05” into an old leek who can read candlestick charts, calculate position sizes, and leave himself an escape route when trading.
With 60 million users come 60 million stories: Some people scraped together a down payment with Dogecoin, some, like me, chopped their Dogecoin into a punchline, and some are sitting in front of their screens right now wondering where the next “Dogecoin” will be.
This time, Gate officially launched #Gate用户突破6000万 ’s story collection, saying, “Long stories, short stories, stories with great punchlines, and stories that hit you in the heart are all welcome.” When I saw that menu, it was practically tailored to my life. Especially the “How Could This Even Happen?” award—those four words, every single one embodies my youth.
So I wrote down this thigh-slapping chapter for no other reason than this: First, to pay tribute to the 20,000 DOGE that left me in 2018; second, to tell the friends still in the game—holding requires thinking it through, thinking it through requires thorough research, and thorough research starts with this: Don't just stare at the gains; first understand what you're buying.
I didn't make money from Dogecoin, but I did gain a story that can be traded for a blind box.
If there is a parallel-universe version of me who sold at the top, please pass a message to my 2018 self: Stop checking the market in the middle of the night. Go to bed earlier. The dog is still here. 🐶
Finally, I wish every “former me” among Gate's 60 million users—may you be able to hold on to the next 100x. $GT
《I Sold Dogecoin at ¥0.02, Then Watched It Rise to ¥5—The Self-Cultivation of a Leek One in 60 Million》
In 2018, I bought the first cryptocurrency of my life on Gate. It wasn't BTC or ETH. It was a dog—Dogecoin, at ¥0.05 per coin.
That year, I had just entered the crypto space, with my head full of “blockchain will change the world.” I opened my market app, saw DOGE’s logo sticking its tongue out at me, and instantly decided this was the coin chosen by fate: Look, even dogs are entering the crypto world. How could this industry not take off?
Later, its price action told me: I don't know whether it would take off, but it was definitely a dog.
It kept drifting downward. My account balance went from “plump” to “slim,” and finally straight to “bony”—much faster than the gym membership I bought ever produced results. I checked the market three times a day, which was like making my heart do three sets of push-ups. Finally, on a dark and stormy night, I nervously sold at ¥0.02, taking a 60% loss. But I fed myself a bowl of motivational soup: “This is called cutting losses in time. Even Buffett would approve.”
At the time, I thought I had dodged a landmine. Later, the facts proved that what I dodged was a rocket. 🚀
In 2021, the whole world was shouting, “Doge to the moon.” Musk promoted it on TV, retail investors banded together to call for buys, the entire internet turned it into a meme, and Dogecoin went on a wild run, peaking at nearly ¥5—or, to be precise, around ¥4.70. But people who have been hurt carry a built-in nostalgia filter; in my heart, it was worth ¥5.
I did the math on my fingers: If I had left the ¥1,000 I invested back then untouched, my account would have held roughly ¥95,000 at the peak. On the night I sold, I had only ¥400 left.
¥94,000 was gone, “cut away” by my own hands. I slapped my thighs raw, took an arrow to the knee, and regretted it to the point of turning my intestines green—the bed frame that night was greener than my holdings.
Looking back calmly, this story can't be blamed entirely on Dogecoin. I was mainly responsible for three things:
First, I mistook panic for discipline.
There was nothing wrong with cutting losses itself. The mistake was that my reason wasn't “the logic has changed,” but “I panicked.” Genuine stop-loss selling is part of a plan; panic selling is merely paying tuition to the market, without even getting a receipt.
Second, I bought absolutely nothing.
I had no idea what I was buying—not that it was a community-driven meme culture, nor that behind it was a group of people who had turned a joke into a belief system. I did no homework before buying, so naturally I couldn't hold through the drop. The essence of not being able to hold is that you never truly believed in it in the first place.
Third, I put all my hopes on a “what if.”
Going all in feels great for a moment; when it drops, it's a funeral. Position management isn't cowardice—it ensures that when a genuine opportunity arrives, you still have bullets in your gun.
In the crypto world, the most expensive lesson is called the “sell-too-early tax”—you pay the tuition yourself and tell the joke yourself. But from another perspective, in 2018 I used ¥94,000 in tuition to buy a lesson that will benefit me for life: Don't take a large position in what you don't understand; don't panic-sell what you have a large position in; and before you panic, ask yourself—is the market changing, or is my heartbeat making the decision for me?
Eight years later, Gate has transformed from the “niche exchange” it was back then into a multi-asset ecosystem platform with over 60 million users worldwide and coverage of more than ten thousand stock assets. I, too, have grown from the hotheaded kid who “went all in on Dogecoin at ¥0.05” into an old leek who can read candlestick charts, calculate position sizes, and leave himself an escape route when trading.
With 60 million users come 60 million stories: Some people scraped together a down payment with Dogecoin, some, like me, chopped their Dogecoin into a punchline, and some are sitting in front of their screens right now wondering where the next “Dogecoin” will be.
This time, Gate officially launched #Gate用户突破6000万 ’s story collection, saying, “Long stories, short stories, stories with great punchlines, and stories that hit you in the heart are all welcome.” When I saw that menu, it was practically tailored to my life. Especially the “How Could This Even Happen?” award—those four words, every single one embodies my youth.
So I wrote down this thigh-slapping chapter for no other reason than this: First, to pay tribute to the 20,000 DOGE that left me in 2018; second, to tell the friends still in the game—holding requires thinking it through, thinking it through requires thorough research, and thorough research starts with this: Don't just stare at the gains; first understand what you're buying.
I didn't make money from Dogecoin, but I did gain a story that can be traded for a blind box.
If there is a parallel-universe version of me who sold at the top, please pass a message to my 2018 self: Stop checking the market in the middle of the night. Go to bed earlier. The dog is still here. 🐶
Finally, I wish every “former me” among Gate's 60 million users—may you be able to hold on to the next 100x. $GT
