Addictions Of An NFT Collector
Greetings Warriors!
I didn’t plan on writing this article today. It found me.
Like most things in the NFT world, it started quietly — almost innocently — back in 2022, when I bought my first ETH NFTs. Nothing dramatic. No fireworks. Just curiosity, support for an artist, and a belief that digital art mattered.
Then something unexpected happened. After the purchase, the artist asked me a simple question:
“Do you mind if I post about the sale?”
I remember thinking, Why is this even a question?
It’s your page. Your art. Your moment.
So I replied politely, “Sure, no problem.”
I had no idea that one yes would open the floodgates.
My First ETH NFT May 14 2022 - Collected from @brandt_kl
When the Notifications Started Talking Back
What followed was something I wasn’t prepared for. My notifications exploded. Artists began reaching out. DMs rolled in. Mentions stacked up. My phone buzzed like it had a heartbeat of its own. If you had seen my inbox just three months earlier, you would’ve thought Twitter was broken. Dry. Empty. Silent.
Now? Chaos.
Each notification delivered a tiny jolt of dopamine. Then another. Then another. Like hits lining up back-to-back, each one trying to outdo the last. It was intoxicating. Exciting. Dangerous.
For the first time, people were reaching out to me.
And I won’t lie — it felt good.
Check out my new poem book!
A collection of my most deepest thoughts.
Conversations, Not Just Transactions
Here’s the part that surprised me most. Behind the messages were real people.
Thoughtful. Curious. Passionate. Artists with deep ideas about culture, society, technology, and where all of this is heading. As an introvert, I usually live inside my own head — thinking, observing, questioning. But I love meaningful conversations. And suddenly, they were everywhere.
Many of those DMs turned into long, honest exchanges. Not sales pitches — conversations. The art came with stories. Struggles. Intentions. Philosophy.
And the work?
Beautiful. Stunning. Overwhelming.
It felt like standing inside a digital gallery with no walls. I wanted to collect everything — reality quickly reminded me that my wallet had other plans (laughs).
Each conversation led to another purchase. Each purchase reignited the rush.
I was hooked.
The Twitter Feedback Loop
As engagement increased, so did my following. One new follower felt good, ten felt better; a hundred felt euphoric.
I became aware — uncomfortably aware — of how quickly the mind starts chasing numbers. Not out of vanity, but momentum. Visibility. Validation.
Make a purchase.
Tweet about it.
Everyone celebrates.
Followers increase.
Dopamine spikes.
Then silence.
Then the crash.
Rinse. Repeat. Again.
I hesitate to call it vicious — because I enjoyed it — but it was relentless. A self-feeding loop that rewards attention and punishes absence.
Feeding the Twitter Gods
To keep the machine alive, sacrifices had to be made; time, focus, presence in the real world.
The Twitter gods are unforgiving. Miss a day, and visibility drops. Break the rhythm, and the algorithm looks away. To stay relevant, you must keep posting. Keep engaging. Keep feeding the system.
Before long, my free time began shrinking. Even when I stepped away, part of my mind stayed plugged in. That low-level anxiety. That fear of missing out.
Once you’re deep enough, stepping back feels like withdrawal.
Addiction in the NFT Space Is Real
I’ve spoken to many artists and collectors about this. The pattern repeats.
The space can be:
Energizing
Inspiring
Community-driven
And at the same time:
Draining
Demoralizing
Addictive
Both artists and collectors feel the pressure. Artists need visibility to survive. Collectors feel compelled to stay active, engaged, present.
The common thread? Constant production for attention.
Sometimes that pressure pushes people to act out of character — chasing engagement instead of meaning.
Loving the Space Without Letting It Own You
Here’s the truth. Despite everything I just said, I love this space.
I’ve formed friendships that will last a lifetime. I’ve connected with people across the world who I never would’ve met otherwise. The creativity, generosity, and shared belief in art still outweigh the negatives.
But awareness matters.
For me, that means boundaries:
Avoiding certain tweets on weekends
Not responding to every DM immediately
Stepping back when the noise gets loud
I’ve seen some of you completely detach for detox periods — and honestly? I respect that deeply.
Final Thoughts, Warriors
Twitter and NFTs can be addictive. That doesn’t make them evil. But pretending the addiction doesn’t exist? That’s where problems begin.
Awareness is power. Boundaries are survival. The goal isn’t to leave the space — it’s to engage without losing yourself. So I’ll leave you with this:
Do you find Twitter and NFTs addictive?
How do you manage the balance?
If this resonated with you and you want more reflections like this, sign up to The Romulus Kingdom and leave a comment. The conversation continues — just with intention.
