had to take profits, sir

had to take profits sir ($https) is now verified on Moonshot.

This. Then check out $https Get back to believing in something. Get back to holding. To bagworking. This is repeated so many times. We have been doing this for 100 days straight. 30k marketcap rn. Extremely undervalued.

Average hold times by Solana wallets over the last 750 days This week 2 years ago: 1.48 DAYS Now: 60 seconds Think about what has changed 2024: Memecoins were communities, people with 9-5's could participate, they could buy and sleep, hit raids when they had time. 2026: Hyper reactive scalp trading against streamers, bots & malicious wallets. Nobody can participate, and if you do you get rinsed. Look who the launchpads interact with Are they good for the space or extractive? Look at the updates platforms push Are they doing anything to help you spot malicious tokens? Buyers need to increase their standards again, vet your devs, look for genuine humans and build together. Or we can watch this chart go zero.

once upon a time there was a dog on the internet. he wasn’t the biggest dog. he wasn’t the loudest dog. he didn’t have a hat or a spaceship or a famous owner who tweeted about him. he was just a dog with a nice smile and a name that everyone already knew but never really thought about. https. he lived in a place called the trenches. it was loud there. dogs came and went every day. some lasted a few hours. some lasted a few minutes. they’d show up, everyone would get excited, and then they’d disappear and nobody would talk about them again. that’s just how the trenches worked. one day a man found him. liked his face. liked his name. thought he could be something. but that man didn’t really care about the dog. he just wanted what the dog could give him. so he took what he wanted and left. left the dog sitting there with nothing. no home. no community. no one. but then someone else found him. this guy was different. he’d been knocked down a few times in his life. broke some bones. lost some things. learned the hard way that the world doesn’t owe you anything but you can still choose to show up anyway. he looked at this dog sitting there abandoned and thought — you’re too good to end like this. so he picked him up. dusted him off. went live on camera and said “i believe in this dog and i’m not leaving.” the first few days were magic. people came from everywhere. the dog was happy. the man was happy. everything was going up. then it stopped going up. then it went down. then it went way down. people left. people said the dog was finished. people said the man was crazy for staying. the man cried on stream once. maybe twice. the dog pretended not to notice. but something weird happened. some people didn’t leave. they just kept showing up. every morning. every night. making art of the dog. writing about the dog. talking about the dog to strangers who didn’t care yet. they had jobs and families and lives but they’d wake up early just to post a meme of this dog before their commute. the dog didn’t understand why they stayed. the chart was bad. the volume was low. the timeline had moved on to the next thing like it always does. but they stayed anyway. and the dog realized something. the people who stay when it doesn’t make sense are the only ones who were ever really there in the first place. months passed. the dog got more art than any dog in the trenches. 500 pieces and counting. hand drawn. original. made with love by people who didn’t have to make them. the raids got louder. the community got tighter. the man never left. not once. not for a day. the dog is still small. the chart hasn’t caught up to the people yet. but the dog learned something about the trenches that most dogs never live long enough to learn — the ones who survive aren’t the ones who run the fastest. they’re the ones who have people who refuse to let them die. the dog’s name is $https. he’s still here. and if you’re reading this, so are you.