At three in the morning, I'm staring at GMGN's candlestick chart, the red fluorescence reflecting on my face like a silent mockery.

Just yesterday, I was swept up in the frenzy of some "eternally profitable influencer" rushing into Dogecoin, and today my wallet's 2000U has evaporated to just a decimal point.

It turns out that those "Meme big shots" flaunting their gains on Twitter have quietly transformed their latest updates into "I've lost a ton, taking a break" —

It seems that when the scythe falls, no one can escape with memes and slogans.

It appears that there is no myth of "eternal profit" in this world, only the survivor bias packaged by traffic.

When everyone is shouting in a bull market, "Holding is faith," when a bear market arrives, even the KOLs who were shouting out trades have tacitly deleted their historical tweets.

The wealth story of Dogecoin is like a limited-time firework; once it bursts, all that remains is the acrid smell of sulfur, and I happen to be standing against the wind.

Perhaps the Mercury retrograde of my zodiac year is a metaphysical phenomenon that even blockchain cannot escape.

But at least this time I understand:

The next line after "When others are fearful, I am greedy" should be "Before I am greedy, I should check if I am the fodder."

Rather than being fuel in the Dogecoin mining pool, it’s better to save the remaining bullets for the next spring —

After all, true wealth never arises from the cold sweat of FOMO.

At this moment, I quietly exit and place an order for a pair of red underwear....