Because I've spent years trying to help people in this space, I've heard plenty of goodbyes. One lost everything to a compromised seed phrase. Another signed one transaction too many. Someone installed the wrong software. Someone trusted the wrong person. Over the years, I've been lucky. I've never had to say goodbye to a wallet, but I know a consistent rule: The technology changes. The social engineering doesn't. Last night, someone messaged me asking for help. A few messages later, we realized the possibility neither of us wanted to say out loud: Someone else probably had the private key. I've forgotten almost everything from that conversation except the feeling behind the words. The bargaining. The denial. The quiet hope that maybe there was still time. It reminded me less of a hack and more of a funeral. Not the poetic kind. The kind of tragedy. Like the moment in Hamlet when everyone in the room already knows how the story ends, except the person still speaking. Goodbye wallet. Goodbye late nights. Goodbye screenshots of milestones. Goodbye plans that were supposed to happen next month. And goodbye to the version of its owner that existed before opening that block explorer. @RallyOnChain reminded me that not every goodbye in crypto comes with a chart. Some arrive as a wallet address that never moves again.