Doomer

DOOMER

DOOMER sat in his dimly lit room, staring at his screen, watching his portfolio bleed out—again. Every time he thought he'd made it, every time he saw the next big meme coin pumping, he threw in everything he had. "This is the one," he whispered, knowing deep down it wasn't. His life had become a series of failed trades, a cycle of hope and regret. He'd lost count of how many coins had promised him a way out, only to dump into oblivion. Yet, he couldn’t stop. This was it—his last shot at escaping the grind, the dead-end job, the crushing weight of bills and dreams that never came true. But the crypto market didn’t care about dreams. It never did. As the price of his latest shitcoin plummeted, Doomer sat back, numb. He'd been rekt again. And for the first time, he didn’t feel anger or fear. He just felt... tired. He closed his laptop, the screen flickering off. Maybe there was no big exit, no quick fix. Maybe the only way out was to stop looking for the way out. With a deep sigh, he stood up and walked outside. The world hadn’t changed. But he had.