The weather today is miserable—damp, cold, and gray. I honestly can’t tell if it’s a cold front clashing with the rain, or just my own freezing heart mixing with a steady stream of tears.
The Red Wedding (On My Screen)
I woke up expecting the usual morning glow of my phone screen, but instead, I was greeted by a bloodbath. The charts didn't just "dip"; they took a Olympic-level swan dive into a bottomless abyss. Every time I refreshed the app, another chunk of my digital soul—and my savings—evaporated into the ether.
The wind outside is howling, but it's nothing compared to the screaming silence of my portfolio. I remember the "To the Moon" days, where I was already picking out the color of my imaginary Lambo. Now, I’m wondering if I can afford the premium brand of instant noodles tonight.
It’s a strange kind of grief. You can't touch it, you can't smell it, but the weight of those missing digits feels like a physical blow to the chest. I’m sitting here, wrapped in a blanket that isn't quite warm enough, watching the rain strike the window and thinking: At least the rain is free.
How is everyone holding up through this wave?
Would you like me to add a bit more dark humor to this, or perhaps turn it into a more dramatic "survivor's tale"?
