I genuinely want to know what twisted, masochistic pleasure someone gets waking up each morning just to call the top again.

How sad must it be to spend your days circling disbelief on the same tired charts, chanting your cult mantra: “Four-year cycle, bro.”

No AI slop required, most of you couldn’t conjure an original thought. You just copy pasta the disbelief chart, circle the downtrend and say ya that happening.

Imagine living such a dopamine-starved existence that one tiny red candle sends you sprinting to X, triumphantly tweeting “I called it!”

Four weeks of green candles and one day of red and you’re going to do victory laps. What are you, a goldfish?

Doctors should study your stubborn misery as a marvel of modern failure. In ancient times, even the village idiot would’ve petitioned for your banishment, leaving you to demonstrate your bearishness against an actual bear in the woods.

Seriously, why are most of you even here? You log in daily, torturing yourselves staring at charts you barely trade, seething endlessly from the sidelines, drowning in cope and asking the same tragic question:

“WhY nUmBeR nOt DyInG?”

But hey, keep it up. God speed.