It's been a while since I've been observing, analyzing, breathing the cycles of crypto like one breathes air before the storm. I've seen fortunes born in silence and collapse in a crash that only those who have lost can understand. I've learned... again and again. And the more I learn, the more I understand that here, nothing is ever guaranteed. Even the whales, those giants of financial seas, have foolishly stranded themselves, blinded by passion or pride.

I am not just an investor. I am a hOlder, and a hOlder is not just someone who holds. It is someone who endures.

During wars, some won battles because they held a line that others had abandoned. In hospitals, there are people who are not just fighting a medical battle, but a battle of the soul, refusing to give in to illness. In life, those who hold on are the ones who walk through the flames and come out still standing.

Being a hOlder is like being an oak in a storm; the wind may bend your branches, but it will never touch your roots. It’s like a lighthouse in the storm; the waves may blind you, but your light remains. It’s like a riddle that only time can solve: What am I? I do not move, but I advance. I lose, but I win. I am invisible, but everyone sees me.

The stock market, crypto, all of this is just an invisible battlefield. The weapons are the numbers. The bullets are the emotions. And the first wound is always fear. The weak sell. The impatient burn out. The passionate burn. But the hOlders... they wait. And one day, they reap what others have abandoned.

A hOlder knows that they are not fighting against the market, but against themselves. And that battle, if they win it, then no matter the cycle, no matter the storm, they will always be on the side of the victors.