I remember it so clearly. I was just scrolling through my feed, trying to ignore the mountain of work I had, when a friend messaged me: “Dude, you have to get in on this. It’s the next Doge!” Now, I’m usually pretty cautious with my money, you know? I like to think I’m sensible. But seeing those little green candles pop up on the chart… it was like a little voice in my head just screaming, “Don’t miss out! This is your chance!” So, I took a small amount, maybe a couple hundred bucks, and dove in headfirst.
For a few glorious days, I felt like a genius. I’d check my phone every five minutes, watching that number multiply. I even started daydreaming about what I’d buy — a fancy new computer, maybe a little trip. My few hundred dollars ballooned into what looked like a decent month’s rent. That’s the seductive part of meme coins, right? They tap into this incredible human desire for a quick win, that feeling that you’ve found the secret party everyone else is late to. The energy and the community around it were intoxicating; everyone was talking about going to the moon!
But then, things got weird.
I woke up one morning, and the chart wasn’t just stalling; it was a cliff dive. That feeling of being a genius vanished, replaced by a cold dread in my stomach. What I think happens to most of these meme coins is a total emotional rollercoaster that follows a pretty predictable path.
First, you get that massive, viral hype — the social media frenzy that drives the price sky-high. This is powered purely by sentiment and the belief that someone else will pay more later. There’s usually no real-world utility or technology backing it up, which is what makes it so fragile.
Second, the early players and big whales (the people who hold huge amounts) look at that massive peak and, very rationally, start cashing out. They take their profits, and when they do, a huge chunk of the coin’s market value suddenly disappears.
And that’s the brutal third phase: the panic sell-off. Once people see the price dropping fast, they don’t want to be the last one holding the bag. It turns into a race for the exit, and usually, the small retail investors like me are the ones who get absolutely crushed. The coin might not completely vanish, but it basically loses all its hype, the community fades away, and it just settles into being a forgotten fraction of a cent.
My few hundred bucks? Yeah, it eventually went back down to being maybe forty dollars. It was a painful lesson, but it taught me something really important: meme coins aren’t really about finance; they’re about sociology and human psychology. They show you exactly how powerful a shared joke or a strong community can be, for better or for worse. I learned to look past the hype and really ask: Why is this coin valuable? If the only answer is “because a celebrity tweeted about it,” I’m walking away now. That’s the boundary I draw now, and it saved me a lot of headaches later on.
The Day I Cashed Out and Realized How Close I Came to Losing Everything. was originally published in Coinmonks on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.