To HODL or not to HODL, that is the question:

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The dips and FUD of outrageous volatility,

Or to sell against a sea of bears,

And by opposing, miss the moon? To cash out—

To yield—no more; and by a sale to say we end

The heartache and the thousand market shocks

That crypto’s heir to—’tis a liquidation

Devoutly to be wished! To sell, to rest—

To rest—perchance to regret—ay, there’s the rub:

For in that crash of price what loss may come,

When we have shuffled off these diamond hands,

Must give us pause—there’s the respect

That makes calamity of such brief pumps.

For who would bear the FOMO and the scams,

The whale manipulations, gas fees’ sting,

The insolence of normies, and the spurns

That patient HODLers of the weak must take,

When he himself might quietus make

With but a market sell? Who would bear the risk,

To grind and wait under a ruthless market,

But that the dread of missing the next bull run—

The undiscovered all-time high, from whose peak

No seller returns—puzzles the will,

And makes us rather bear those dips we have

Than fly to fiat that we know not of?

Thus greed does make diamond hands of us all,

And thus the native hue of resolution

Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of doubt,

And enterprises of great gains and leverage

With this regard their fortunes turn awry,

And lose the name of profits. Soft you now,

The fair Satoshi!—in thy whitepaper

Be all my sins remembered.