Dreams, nature of realities, secrets of the universe, and hypothetical nonsense philosophy is what I think about nowadays. My hyperactive imaginations take me to the far end of the multiverse only to bring down the hammer of hard setting reality again and again. Makes me wonder if I am losing my grip over sanity!
I have been abused as a child. I have seen the worst in humanity in all its glory. I have seen such heinous acts up close to which most are never exposed. But, I will not speak about what happened to me as it is not anything special, nothing you have never read in newspapers or seen in movies, and nowadays, I hate sympathy. But what I will say is that those unfortunate events left deep and unruly scars in my soul. Scars whose symptoms intellects with higher cognitive abilities might refer to as mental disorders. It's nothing uncommon; left unchecked might cause more significant problems in the future, but instead of being a burden, it has helped me many a time. For example, while researching, I have had to take interviews and host FGDs of victims of various human maleficence. At first, to an outsider of their comfort zone, they hardly disclose the things they had to go through or the severity of the events that had transpired. But once I start getting personal and up close and make them see my own overdramatized victimization, they start telling me things. Looks kinda pathetic, doesn't it? Living off of pity and using it for selfish purposes?
Initially, while trying to push out something to write about today, I was tiptoeing around a finance-related topic. I had managed to become a successful cryptocurrency enthusiast about the only time and had made a little bit of profit while trading. But no! somehow, like always, my brain had short-circuited in a way that another self-loathing piece was gnawing at the back of my head to get out. That may be because the events and the aftermaths of that profit were as nonsensical as pulp fiction.
For me, hive was rarely about money. The things I write about, however superficial they may sound, but at least are honest. And so I rarely have cared about the rally or fall of the price of BTC and any altcoins. Not even hives price, if that matters. But being an "all for hive" individual, that doesn't sound good for my repertoire. And so, after a few taunts from my mentors and lovely but evil at heart peers, I decided what the heck, let's buy some coins.
The most severe symptom of my mental issues, which might never let me become a successful trader at any point in life is, I act on impulses. Not while just taking any decisions, but in every sphere of life. My brain thinks of something, and I just jump on it. No assessment of risk rewards and the outcome is a lot of misery. Usually, when I am at such a crossroads in life, what I do is hitchhike. It hard making my own decisions, so I just follow the proven precedents. And so I repurchased a total of 18$ worth BTC in last year's September. A total of 70 hive. What can I say? I am poor. And then I had forgotten all about it.
And then everything started falling apart. After six months of 'Its complicated', I had to go through the ugliest breakup possible. A love story that had started in a fairytale-like fashion ended in a manner comparable to the movie 'Saw'. Except for all the bloodshed. My already unstable mental condition had deteriorated so much that wherever I looked, I only saw my imminent doom. Messy long hairs, dirty old, lived in clothes, and not showering for days had turned me into a caveman. The only thing that kept me alive was the frequent badminton matches and occasional drunkenness.
When the actor falls in love in a typical romantic cinema, a generic viewer's heart always melts. No matter the flaws in the context and plot holes a lazy write up might have left in it, he will always get rooted for. Only if that was true. I have to give it to my friends, who had tried to cheer me up only the first few days. And then they, too, had given up! Thinking at the age of 24, this idiot has lost all of his senses for a random chick. And some rotting away in my solitude had begun. Depressed eating and sleeping all day only made sense.
I would have delved myself farther into chaos, but the good people of BDC had saved me. And for that ill be grateful for eternity. The Friday night hangout, working the Sundays away behind Turni, was no less than therapeutic. But still, those weren't enough. A change of air was more than necessary. So, On a Monday afternoon of December when BTC had crossed 30k for the first time ever, I left my home on a trip to a place where cellphones get zero bars. To the mountains in hopes that I would have left all of my problems behind when I return.
Mowdok Mual, the second-highest peak of Bangladesh, has a trek that's almost impossible for anyone with my physique. But a desperate attempt at learning to live always motivates you to try seemingly impossible things. And yet, it remained impossible for me. Halfway through my trip, I had realized that I had lost my wallet. And before going, I had cashed out all of the liquids!
On such trips, everyone is on a budget. And so, asking for money from my group to finish the trip wasn't viable. And by then, I was in such a rural place, where there is only one working computer that runs on solar and uses a teletalk modem with a bandwidth lower than 30KBps. I had two options. Either asking my friends over in the city for a loan or my patrons over hive. In any case, I would have to trek back if I couldn't manage it. I decided on the latter. And so, with fainting hope, I used the battery that the computer used to charge my phone. The first notification to pop up on my phone was from the Binance app,BTC over 34K.
I cashed out 433 instead of 70 hive that day! BTC had risen from 10k to 34k and hive from 26 cents to 14. And for a fleeting moment, I was the happiest man to be alive.
We still couldn't reach the peak of Mowdok Mual; as our guide had said, it had rained last night, and there was a massive landslide on the Khum's. And so the next best thing was to drink away all the pain with mountain poisons. Sitting in a bed inside those larger than it looks bamboo huts of Boam people, looking at the mountains fully lit under the bright full moon, I asked myself Did the moonlight always boasted that slick shade of silver? Or is it my hyperactive imagination, as always?
