After eight years of struggling in the cryptocurrency space, I have come to realize one thing: say less.

In 2023, a lady took my advice and bought Ethereum. After making a 50% profit, she kept asking me every day whether to sell.

I initially advised her to be patient and hold for the long term, but from her demeanor, I understood she just wanted to hear me say “sell.” As soon as I gave in, she placed a sell order, and later ETH doubled again. When she asked about coins again, I mentioned the dinner she owed me for two years, and she stopped talking.

After eight years in the circle, my trading skills have become increasingly refined, but the number of friends around me has dwindled. Many people applaud me, but very few truly understand the industry. When someone asks me about altcoins, I honestly say I don’t know, and they look surprised, thinking I’m hiding something. In fact, studying a project requires going through the white paper, calculating unlocking periods, and checking on-chain data—it's not that easy. When asked how much a coin can rise, I have no answer; I'm not a fortune teller.

I advised relatives to buy Bitcoin during a bull market, but they said they would wait for MEME coins to break even. By the time they break even, Layer 2 has already iterated several rounds. They praise me as a master, but their actions want me to follow the logic of a novice: only buy low-priced coins, only hold onto the coins they are stuck with, and only signal me when they want to sell. It’s like someone who can’t drive instructing a seasoned driver on how to drive every day.

Some people follow my trades, boast when they make money, and even leverage their gains beyond mine. When I ask about their operations later, I only respond with, “What’s in it for me?” Three years have passed, and not a single thank you; I’m already fed up. I stay up late analyzing data and watching the market, while they gamble everything in five minutes, and when they get liquidated, they blame me. Helping once seems to mean being responsible for a lifetime.

Once, when ETH's pattern looked good, I advised a friend to clear his position and reminded him that there were anomalies in the on-chain data. Later, when the market crashed, he avoided a disaster but never contacted me again, probably thinking I “knew in advance.” Another time, after I helped a friend double their SOL and called for a sell at the top, she complained I didn’t call it at the highest point, and I was left speechless.

The loneliness in the crypto world lies in quietly adding to your position during a bear market while others are cutting losses; you accurately escape the top, and others say you’re just lucky.

Slowly, I stopped advising people on trades and stopped explaining market trends. After eight years in the crypto space, I learned to keep my mouth shut. Even if you can read on-chain data and calculate unlocking periods, we can still understand each other without speaking.