I Broke Up with Reality on a Tuesday

They say a year at sea changes a man. Yeah, right. I’ve been in the Navy for the last twelve months, and the only thing that’s changed is my tolerance for bad coffee and worse advice. Every morning, I wake up to the sound of the same diesel engine humming like a lazy god. The ocean’s endless, the schedule’s repetitive, and the food’s consistent in its mediocrity. My entire life has become a loop. Wake. Work. Eat. Pretend to sleep. Repeat. Sometimes, when the waves hit broadside, I feel like the ship is sighing with me. Nevertheless, I guess I still got it better than the others. My crewmates spend half their time playing tongits, betting away their allowances like their ancestors didn’t die for pesos. “At least I’m not gambling,” I tell myself while checking the price of Bitcoin for the 46th time that day. I’ve quit three times before. Told myself many times I would never come back. But I swear. This time the charts look different. The macro-environment is bullish. You know can’t just have money sitting in a bank account, rotting away to inflation. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve made and lost money. 'Cause one week I’m up ₱30,000. The genius, a visionary, the next Warren Buffett, the champion of the gods of the seas. The next thing I know, I’m down ₱40,000 and convincing myself it’s “for the long-term.” Yeah, but really, this isn't gambling. It’s strategic financial participation in decentralized economies. And you know what, at least I don’t spend my money on alcohol or women like all the others do. I’ve got a girlfriend back home, loyal as sunrise, though the last time we talked, she said, “You sound… distant.” “It's just too lound inside the ship,” I said, while muting a trading alert telling me it's time to enter another Bitcoin long. I send her selfies sometimes, me smiling in uniform, the sea behind me, captioned “Still fighting the good fight.” I remember telling her this job would be an adventure, that I’d see the world and come back a hero with a full bank account. She replies with hearts and “Proud of you,” and I reply with “Love you too,” then immediately check Solana again. Sometimes, she'd get really frustrated about how much time we actually spend together. I don't blame her. I don't really call that much, calling just sucks the life out of me. There's no deeper explanation. She either has to accept that or find another man who can. Last month, one of my roommates, Jun, said, “Bro, I swear you're always on your phone.” Then continued after I gave him the cold shoulder, "I guess you're really planning the future with your fiancee, huh? " Well, really close and essentially the same thing, this is the future of finance. I let out a snort, and he made a disguted face and side eyed me. Yeah, who cares about you, random crewmate number 3. You know I'm busy calculating how many more percent I needed before I broke even. This my only ticket out. Not out of the Navy, but out of this very situation I was born in. I don't really have skills I can sell, nor connections to enable the choice of "call a friend. My only leverage is my monthly salary which proceeds to be depleted on stupid trades after recieving it. This place is just another box. An excruciatingly stupid box where you have to gaslight yourself everytime you see something wrong. Your superior mistreats you? This is all for the nation. Your superior misappropriate funds? This is all for the nation. You're forced to do things outside your values system? This is all for the Nation. Yeah, fuck that. And the thing about being out here is that time melts. A week feels like an hour, and an hour feels like a lifetime. The ocean doesn’t care if you’re heartbroken, rich, poor, or just pretending to be busy. I want to buy myself time, I want to buy myself out of the working class. A massive bitcoin bullrun can do that. Sometimes, at night, I go up to the deck and stare at the horizon. Everyone says the sea is calming. I don’t get that. To me, it’s just an enormous blue reminder that I’m small, replaceable, and probably doing everything wrong. All the other guys talk about their dreams. Some were saving for a house, some were thinking of starting a business, marrying their girlfriends. Of course, I don’t join in. I just nod and think, I’m saving for a personality that can survive the century. The funny part? I actually got a letter last week saying I was “promoted.” I thought, Finally... Then I saw the next letter that says: Report to shore based duty for Administrative Assistant, Logistics Sub-Department by the end of your sea tour. You know what that means? More paperwork. More emails that start with “Kindly note.” I laughed so hard I nearly fell off my bunk. Really, that’s what everything in my life feels like now. Just one big cosmic HR memo.