Addiction often begins with a single success.

That unforgettable feeling: the numbers on the screen flickering, from 1,500 to 40,000 in just forty-eight hours. At that moment, the world felt weightless, and every breath was filled with a sweet metallic taste. He wasn't trading; he was turning stones into gold.

But the flip side of the dream is free fall.

When 40,000 resets to zero, sometimes all it takes is stubbornly going all-in once. The real horror isn't losing everything, but the deep imprint of "almost winning"—so deep that all warnings become background noise. Cursing inside, "No one trades these contracts," yet late at night, still honestly opening the trading app, eyes bloodshot.

Once leverage is activated, time collapses. Stock market returns are measured in months, here they are compressed into seconds. Heartbeat racing with the candlestick movements, between rises and falls, your wealth transforms into a different form.

This isn't greed; it's a sense altered by speed. If one minute can experience heaven and hell back and forth, the rhythm of normal life can no longer satisfy. Staring at the chart, you're actually fighting an addictive void—what you crave isn't money, but the illusion of "total control" at the peak.

In the end, the market will teach you: all the illusions it offers lead to one destination—emptiness.