Seven years ago that night, I curled up in my rented room with the lights off.

The glow from my phone screen cast on my face, and the Bitcoin candlestick chart looked like a series of downward falling blades, all red.

My fingertips started to tremble, not the kind of fake trembling—really shivering.

Less than a month after investing 300,000 yuan, my account balance had evaporated by 170,000.

With each digital jump, my heart felt like it was being yanked hard by something.

The "Uninstall" button on the exchange app interface shimmered brightly. I stared at it, staring for half an hour.

Only two words kept looping in my mind: "It's over."

That’s when I realized, the shrinking numbers on the screen weren’t the scariest part. The scariest part was beginning to doubt myself—am I too impatient? Was the strategy I chose fundamentally wrong? Or should I never have stepped into this field at all?

The surroundings were eerily quiet, only the hum of the air conditioner and my increasingly rapid breathing.

I even started doing mental calculations—

If I sell now and cut my losses, what can I do with the remaining 130,000? Can I still maintain my basic livelihood?

Many beginners think the hardest part of the crypto market is learning technical analysis and reading candlesticks.

But actually, that’s not what destroys people.

It’s that tearing feeling inside: knowing full well that continuing to hold might lead to total loss, yet being unable to admit defeat—that suffocating feeling.