Why This Project Exists
Ten days in. Posting every day. One more post queued for when the clock hits zero. Tired in a way that doesn't really come from the schedule.
I figured it was time to explain why.
I've built or helped build a lot of projects over the years. Most never left the ground. A few took my money with them on the way down. One took more than money.
I'll just call it "the ocean coin." A charity token built around marine conservation. I wasn't just an investor. I was in it. Ran the marketing myself across every platform I could touch, never paid a cent for any of it. I paid a different way. I traded my retirement fund until my fingers bled to earn my way in.
We did real things with it. Real donations to real conservation efforts. Real cleanup events, organized on multiple continents. I personally ran a local creek cleanup and pulled close to a ton of trash, needles, and human waste out of the water myself.
I went to an AMA meeting while misdiagnosed and dangerously sick. That same night I ended up in the hospital on emergency IV antibiotics, an abscess spreading toward my brain. Twenty-four hours later and it would have killed me. I still made the meeting.
The core devs rugged us anyway. Then a second team rugged us again with a follow-up project, just to make sure the point landed. We got doxxed. I lost the money, lost friends by association, lost trust and dignity in a community that's already hard to earn it back from. Took years to rebuild any of it.
While that was happening, my now-wife and I were living in a slumlord trailer park. Sewage backed up black in the showers, and two gangs occasionally went at war with each other outside our door. When it fell apart, COVID hit next, no jobs, living off whatever was left in an ETH bag. Then a "commune" that scammed us further, bleach-burned pond water for showers, parties every week keeping us up till 6am some times, right outside our cabin, until we got pushed out after two years of their BS. Every time it looked like things were turning around, something else broke. Cars. Jobs that didn't pay enough. Portfolios, rest in peace.
The Last $20 started with exactly that: the literal last $20 left in my bags after all of it.
Not because it's a comeback story. Because it's a "you're still here" story. Whoever you are, wherever you've landed, if you've got a last $20 and a story that goes with it, that story gets kept. Immortalized as a cameo, kept in the archive, so nobody has to carry it alone.
NFA. No promises on price, no promises on anything except: your story gets remembered here.
Twenty 🚬🔋2%
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