Diary

There are two versions of "regret."

Version 1: You bought Bitcoin in 2017 and sold in 2020, tripling your money. You were happy, thinking you were smart. When it hit $69,000 in 2021, you started to regret—why didn't you buy more back then?

Version 2: You bought Ethereum in 2017. It dropped 70% in 2018, you couldn't take it, and you cut your losses. When it climbed to $4,800 in 2021, you regretted even more—why didn't you hold on back then?

These two versions have different account balances, but the psychological structure is identical: you're not regretting a specific thing—you're continuously paying a "regret tax" on past decisions.

Regret Is a Special Kind of Compound Interest

Normal compound interest means your position grows larger and larger. Regret's compound interest means every time you think about that thing, the pain adds another layer.

First regret: $10 of pain. Second: $15. Third: $22.

Your mental account is going bankrupt, and you don't even realize it.

The scariest part is: this compound interest doesn't depend on any external event. It only needs you to be alive, it only needs that thing to still exist in your memory, and it runs automatically.

The market closes, but the regret remains.

"If Only Back Then..."

These are the four most expensive words in the world.

If only you'd bought Tesla back then, it would already be 80x by now.

If only you hadn't bought that graphics card, you wouldn't be paying off a loan right now.

If only you'd chosen that other company, you wouldn't be grinding in this industry now.

Every "if only back then" is you paying taxes to a parallel universe that doesn't exist. That universe has your other choice, but it doesn't have all your subsequent experiences, all your learning, all your iterations.

You don't regret that choice. You regret not having a perfect crystal ball.

Are You Regretting What You Didn't Do?

Not necessarily.

Most people don't regret "doing A"—they regret "not doing A." But the deeper question is: when you regret not doing A, do you really understand what A entails?

You see someone who "bought Nvidia and it went up 20x," and you regret not buying. But what you didn't see is: that person endured three drawdowns of over 50% along the way, tolerated two years of going nowhere, and even added to their position during the most panic-stricken moments.

You regret the outcome, not the path.

That path itself is muddy. What you want to traverse isn't the path—it's the destination.

Time Isn't the Cost—Attention Is

Many people say: regret is wasted time.

Not quite. Time is objective—it keeps moving whether you waste it or not.

What regret truly steals is your attention.

You're up at 3 AM replaying a decision from three years ago. You're placing your attention on a past that cannot be changed. But right now, there's a trade opportunity forming, a growing gap in your understanding, something you could have done today.

Attention is the only non-renewable resource. Each time you regret, it burns a little more.

You've already paid for that decision. Stop paying with your attention.

How Do You Stop the Regret Tax?

A counterintuitive method: admit that the bill has already been paid in full.

You didn't "lose" three years. You "spent" three years—in exchange for three years of experience, three years of personal growth, three years of earning your stripes surviving in this market.

You think you're losing money, but you're actually buying lessons. It's just that this course doesn't give you a transcript—it quietly lowers your account balance, then hands you a cognitive upgrade you refuse to acknowledge.

The bill is settled. Walk away.

Not walking away to forgive anyone. Walking away to admit: that tuition has been paid. What you have now is the version of you who has paid it.

This version of you is worth more than the you from three years ago.