Leverage Was Never the Shortcut—Just the Fall
I chased the illusion that faster meant smarter. That doubling down meant rising quicker. Leverage felt like a secret weapon—until it turned into a silent executioner. Every position I opened wasn’t just a trade; it was a bet on my worth, my foresight, my ego. I told myself I had an edge. The truth? I was trapped in a system designed to feed off my urgency. Liquidations weren’t rare—they were expected. They were engineered.
The deeper I went, the more I realized I wasn’t trading charts—I was navigating algorithms wired to detect emotion. Exchanges weren’t neutral marketplaces. They studied behavior, herded traders into predictable setups, and triggered mass exits with precision. I wasn’t playing against the market. I was positioned by it. I was liquidity, not competition.
It took losing more than capital to finally understand. Leverage isn’t a shortcut to success—it’s bait. The real edge isn’t aggression. It’s patience, precision, and self-mastery. I don’t trade to prove something anymore. I trade to stay standing.
Because the most dangerous thing in the market isn’t volatility—it’s believing you're in control when you're not.
