Today I kept staring at memes until my eyes started to ache. The more lively it got, the more I wanted to rush in—then, just because my hand moved too fast, I pushed my stop-loss farther back… to put it plainly, I was just throwing a tantrum at myself. Recently, around the upgrade/maintenance of that major public chain, everyone in the group was speculating whether the ecosystem would migrate. I even almost got swept along into chasing “the next narrative,” but when I looked back, with funding rates rising and positions tilting one way, I knew a liquidation waterfall might be coming down the road.

So now I’m forcing myself to slow down: before entering, I write down the price where I’ll get out if I’m wrong, and don’t change it on the fly. I can enter in at most two rounds—even if I’m half a beat late, at least I won’t be taken out by a sudden needle-like spike and emotionally break down. Anyway, with my perpetual emotional temperament, rushing just means digging my own grave… That’s it for now.