I didn’t lose $50,000 in one moment. It disappeared in pieces. A failed mint. A token that slipped to zero. A bridge stuck in pending. A voice in my head that kept saying “just one more.” At first I thought I was managing. Just some volatility. Just some bad timing. I told myself I’d make it back. That this was part of the process. That everyone goes through this. But then the days started getting heavier. I watched my MetaMask shrink while pretending to be calm in group chats. I said “I’m fine” while muting notifications. I posted memes while skipping meals. I showed up on spaces, but couldn’t show up for myself. I borrowed from friends and promised I’d return it soon. I laughed at my losses like they didn’t matter. But they did. Not just because of the money. Because of what came with it. The disorientation. The slow fade of confidence. The feeling of sitting in a room where everything is spinning except me. I stopped checking my wallet. I stopped replying. I started rehearsing what I’d say if anyone asked how I was. They didn’t. So I made something. Not to recover the money. That part is gone. I made this to feel less alone. Ten thousand stories, each one like a mirror. People who lost not just assets, but belief. People who kept showing up anyway. If you hold one, maybe you’ll see part of yourself in it. Maybe you’ll feel seen. Maybe I will too. Thank you.