According to CoinDesk, three reasons were cited for Bitcoin’s surge in 2017: Initial Coin Offerings (ICO), hard forks (a method of upgrading a blockchain), and futures trading. Among these, the startup I briefly worked for also rode the wave of the times, launching a mobile game project centered on blockchain-based virtual real estate ownership and raising investment funds for the project through an ICO. Back then, a few photos of the core development team with successful project experience, a white paper proposal, and advisors promising business success were enough to capture public attention. It was a time when investment poured in instantly, fueled by hopes of creating the next Ethereum or Ripple project. Similar to the dot-com bubble era, massive funds poured in despite the knowledge that, just as countless startups vanished and only a few platform companies survived, only a handful of blockchain projects would ultimately endure. Startups could now raise investment directly from individual investors via crowdfunding, through a very simple process, without needing to rely on venture capital firms or government grants.

Fundraising through an ICO involves explaining the development plan for a new blockchain project and exchanging the newly issued coins used in that project for established coins like Bitcoin or Ethereum from investors at a predetermined exchange rate.  Typically, the process begins with a Pre-Sale, where a portion of the coin supply is sold to partners or investors to generate buzz. This is followed by the scheduled Public Sale period, during which the coin is sold to individual investors. Finally, the coin is listed on an exchange to establish its market value. Throughout this process, the mere anticipation and promotion of the project can significantly boost the value of the new coin. I still vividly remember the excitement and anticipation I felt back then, witnessing enormous investment funds gather in a relatively short period. However, the joy of securing investment was short-lived; the pressure to succeed with the blockchain-based game project only grew steadily. Furthermore, specifying the project development schedule and key milestones in the whitepaper naturally enhances the project’s credibility. Yet, after securing the investment, I heard internal plans to suddenly add projects not originally included in the original plan, and my mind became confused.

Adding another project to the already announced schedule was an unreasonable burden for a small development team, and I believed investors would also find it difficult to accept. Despite submitting internal objections, they were not accepted. After much deliberation, I decided to resign after six months. Moreover, the originally planned project was a virtual real estate ownership game based on a metaverse worldview, while the other project was a sports betting game within a social casino worldview. Their fundamentally different natures weighed heavily on me, as did the fact that investors had committed to an innovative metaverse project, not a game within an existing genre. Given the gaming industry’s inherently tight-knit network, I anticipated this departure could negatively impact my personal reputation beyond just the business. I communicated this carefully to management, ensuring I wouldn’t hinder the project’s progress, and chose to take time off to reflect.

However, the disappointment I felt about myself becoming practically incompetent during my brief startup experience, the sudden shift from a stable government job to an unstable work environment, and above all, the conflicts with acquaintances I had trusted and tried to work with—all these factors converged, and I gradually sank into the abyss of depression. I didn’t fully grasp it at the time, but I later realized that the collision of regret, disappointment, and differing values about success, coupled with the repeated thoughts of failure, eventually manifested physically. I believe it crossed a line, reaching a point where I could no longer control it myself. Experiencing firsthand the insomnia, social phobia, and panic attacks typically seen in severe depression patients made me realize just how terrifying this illness is. Only those who’ve endured it can truly understand. If a heart attack is like the hellish agony of thinking you’re dying in an instant, then depression felt like being in hell itself. Moreover, the unexpected news of my wife’s pregnancy brought more worry than joy, making the path ahead seem narrower and longer than even the Hezekiah Tunnel – that pitch-black cave I experienced during my visit to Israel.