For more than a year, I always held onto the idea that if I could just complete this last big trade, I could retire. There was no other reason; I was trading here to make some money to leave and do what I love, not out of passion. Yet, I always ended up with endless regret in that last trade, never feeling like I did it right—missing out, misjudging, making mistakes, sleepless nights, and taking sleeping pills for half a year. And this time, I encountered the altcoin massacre. My good friends always say that if you wash your hands for the last time, something will inevitably go wrong, and it came true. Maybe I will never be able to conquer myself and achieve that perfect trade. Doge could bottom out at 23 and rise to 27, but I wanted to hold onto XX so I could leave and never look back. Before the crash, I saw the data for Zec and thought going all in on Zec should be right, aiming for 280, but I ended up choosing the asset I trusted the most, which was also heading towards zero. When I think about how I might still be playing in this circle for an unknown amount of time, I feel like the road ahead is quite bleak. At some moment today, I suddenly remembered my late good friend. It was a very ordinary day, with no storm. He messaged me to tell me that he could finally sleep well, had a good meal, and had let himself go. He also told me to eat well, take care of myself, and not to leave too many regrets in life. At that time, I didn’t know that was his farewell to me. It was his last sentence to me. I really want to let myself go and stop being entangled in the question of whether to retire from the last trade. Maybe I can never leave here, but it seems that letting myself go is much simpler than achieving that trade. I never believed that as long as I’m alive, there will always be opportunities, because that’s the biggest fantasy of a gambler. More people waste their lives in such fantasies. For the vast majority, the money earned is accumulated step by step, not sudden wealth. Watching years of accumulation collapse is a terrible thing. Life must continue to move forward, but this time it seems I’ve really been knocked down.