I’ve realized what I fear most isn’t losing money—it’s that state of “being down on paper but not yet realized,” where the floating loss just hangs there like a dripping faucet in the room: not loud, but it runs all night. On the other hand, floating gains aren’t nearly as thrilling—maybe on some subconscious level I feel they’re not really mine, just lent to me temporarily so I can enjoy it for a bit. To put it plainly, losses keep forcing me to constantly replay and re-check: did the logic change, did the correlation suddenly break down, and if liquidity gets pulled, am I going to be unable to get out? Then the more I think, the more keyed up I get—until I end up losing sleep.

Recently, memes and celebrity stock-call hype have been heating up again. Attention shifts so fast it’s honestly ridiculous. Old hands are telling newcomers not to grab the last baton, and I really can empathize—because the moment I see that kind of candlestick chart and the accompanying emotions, my brain automatically fills in a “retracement test” scenario. The more I watch, the more panicked I become.

For safety, I’d rather be a little more troublesome now: before opening a new position, I run through the retracement range first. I also split my position into smaller pieces and set stop-loss/take-profit in advance. I’m not trying to make a ton of money—I just want to be able to sleep a bit at night. Anyway, I’m not afraid of losing. I’m afraid of not seeing the risks.