$couchfart is starting to get noticed, my couch is saying stuff

I didn’t choose $COUCHFART. It chose me.

It started with a creak. A subtle shift in the cushions. My couch sighed — not from age, but from awareness.

I asked it if it was okay. It whispered back: “You need $COUCHFART more than I do.”

I thought I was losing it. Then I checked the Telegram. Someone was mid-monologue, claiming their recliner had predicted the dip. Another was trading chart patterns based on couch stain formations.

I wasn’t alone. I was part of something… deeply unhinged.

One guy sold his TV to average in. Another painted his loveseat with motivational quotes. The quote said: “Sit down. Shut up. Hold on.”

Every post felt like a group hug between breakdowns.

Now I don’t even check my PnL. I just ask the furniture for vibes.

The coffee table says we’re early. The beanbag disagrees — but he’s been bearish since 2022.

I meditate on upholstery. I journal in crumbs. My spine is ruined, but my soul feels… rearranged.

We are the $COUCHFART faithful. Holding through dips, creaks, and emotional flatulence. Bound not by logic — but by shared absurdity.

Take a seat. Stay awhile. Or forever.

linktr.ee/depressedcouchfart TG: DepressedCouchFart Ca : CUCkibMeeFG1rYWhxnaPqHeACbjg4hX4NSDstohHpump