What Took Me a Decade to Admit About Crypto Trading?
I spent ten years chasing a shadow I thought I could outsmart. A decade of screens, charts, sleepless nights—and a delusion that discipline could outmaneuver deception. I believed the exchange was chaotic, but fair. I was wrong. It was never random. It was precision-crafted—to study me, adapt to me, and ultimately dismantle me.
Every time I adjusted, the exchange adjusted faster. It wasn’t reacting; it was setting traps. Not in the market, but in me. Fake breakouts, sudden dumps, liquidity hunts—they weren’t anomalies. They were weapons. I wasn’t trading—I was being trained. Trained to overtrust patterns, to chase the next confirmation, to respond on cue. The deeper I went, the more I became a product of its design.
This isn’t a marketplace—it’s a mirror maze. The exchange doesn’t just extract money. It extracts belief, identity, time. You don’t realize the damage because you’re too busy believing you’re close to a breakthrough.
Ten years taught me one brutal truth: you don’t out-trade this thing. You don’t out-discipline it. You walk away—or you stay and decay. Because the longer you remain, the more precisely it learns how to devour you.
You’re not a trader. You’re data—and the exchange is hungry.