NFT Addiction
“It Was Supposed to Be a Rare Drop. Turns Out, It Was Just Droppings.”
When Tyler Brentwood first saw “PoshPossum#1478,” a pixelated NFT wearing sunglasses and a tiny boa, he knew he had to have it. “It spoke to me,” he said. “Like it knew my soul. Or my algorithm.” So he did what any irrationally confident crypto-bro would do–he refinanced his home for a JPEG.
The possum, marketed as part of the elite *Nocturnal Assets* NFT collection, was promised to be “one of a kind,” with unlockable features like “glow-in-the-dark street cred” and access to an exclusive Discord server moderated by a ferret with a business degree.
Three weeks later, the market crashed. PoshPossum#1478 is now worth less than a slightly bruised pear.
“I tried to flip it,” Tyler said, “but no one’s biting. Not even the possum fans. Turns out there are 1,477 other versions that look just like it, but with different digital snacks.”
He now lives in a van outside a Starbucks, selling NFTs of NFTs. “I call it meta-regret. It’s very 2025.”
Therapists report a rise in “NFT disassociation,” a condition marked by compulsive minting and crying into Ethereum wallets.
Tyler remains optimistic. “Next time I’m investing in something real–like holographic real estate on Mars.”
Auf Wiedersehen, amigos.
