Letter III
Greed at the High, Panic at the Low: The Two Demons of Every Trader
There are two forces that have emptied more accounts than all bad analyses combined. The old schools would have called them demons — not because they wear horns, but because they do exactly what demons do in every tradition: they come when you are weak, they speak with your own voice, and they always want only one thing — that you act, right now.
This letter dissects both. Not to defeat them. But to show why they cannot be defeated — and what works instead.
The first demon: greed at the high
Greed has a bad reputation and perfect timing. It never arrives at the low, when buying would be wise. It arrives at the high — and that is not coincidence but its mechanism.
Greed is social. It grows not with the price, but with the number of visible winners. At the high, everyone is visible: the neighbours, the headlines, the screenshots of other people’s accounts. The pain that drives greed is not wanting-to-have — it is not-being-part-of-it, and this pain reaches its maximum exactly where the market reaches its maximum. Thus arises the cruellest synchronisation in finance: the feeling of maximum urgency lands on the point of maximum danger.
The Chronicler knows this demon personally. The analysis said sell. His own protocol said sell. He bought anyway — chased. More than once, six figures. Not out of stupidity: out of humanity. That is the point you must grasp before any improvement is possible. Greed does not argue against your analysis. It waits until the analysis is finished and then whispers: but this time it is different. And everyone else is earning right now.
The second demon: panic at the low
Panic is the more honest of the two demons, for it does not disguise itself as opportunity. It is a protective reflex, millions of years old, and its mission is simple: end the pain. Immediately. At any price.
At the low, the paper loss is greatest, so the pain is greatest, so the reflex is strongest. Panic does not sell when it is wise. It sells when it is unbearable. That the two almost never coincide is why so many accounts are emptied precisely at the bottom — by the same people who held on bravely for months. Panic does not strike at the start of the fall. It waits for the moment of exhaustion, when willpower is used up.
And it conceals one more thing: it is not the position being sold. It is the feeling. The price at which you exit is the price you pay for one night of sleep — and it is almost always the worst price of the entire move.
Why you will not defeat either
The trading literature is full of advice to “control”, “master”, “overcome” these forces. The old schools were wiser. They knew: powers of this depth are not beaten in open combat. Greed and panic are older than any reason. They run on machinery that switches faster than your mind — by the time the argument arrives, the hand is already on the order.
Experience does not weaken the demons. Experienced traders lose to them less often, but not because the reflexes have softened — because they have stopped relying on themselves. They have built walls. That is the entire difference, and it is architectural, not characterological.
The banishing: three walls
What works is the same principle unfolded in the first letter: banishing instead of fighting. Withdrawing the demons’ access, not denying their existence.
The first wall is time. Every decision is made in stillness, in writing, before the position exists — entry, exit, conditions. The demons are mighty in the storm and powerless in the stillness; you simply never meet them at the same hour. The ritual before the trade is the practical form of this wall.
The second wall is the protocol. Whoever must write down every impulse before following it discovers something astonishing: written down, the demons sound stupid. “Everyone is earning right now” does not survive written form. The journal is a banishing circle made of ink.
The third wall is the machine. An autonomous trading system knows no high that tempts and no low that burns. Acta Abyssi documents this path — not as a recommendation, but as an experiment with an open outcome. For one thing must be said: the machine is not smarter than the market. It is merely deaf to the two voices that whisper buy at the high and sell at the low. Whether that suffices, the trial will show — publicly, with all the red days.
Until then, the oldest advice of this archive applies: do not expect never to hear the demons again. Expect to hear them — and make sure they can no longer touch anything.
— signed: The Chronicler
Questions on this letter
Why do traders buy at the high?
Because greed is social: it grows with every visible winner. At the high, the number of visible winners is greatest and the pain of missing out is maximal — the worst moment for a decision feels like the most urgent one.
Why do traders sell at the low?
Because panic is a protective reflex that wants to end losses — immediately, at any price. At the low, the paper loss is greatest and the reflex strongest. Panic does not sell when it is wise but when it is unbearable; the two rarely coincide.
Can experience cure greed and panic?
No. Both are evolutionarily deep-seated reactions that override any experience under stress. Experienced traders fall for them less often because they have built structures — not because the reflexes have weakened.
What concretely helps against emotional trades?
Separating the decision from the execution in time: fixing rules and exits in writing before the position, using fixed routines, and in the extreme case handing execution to an automated system. The leverage lies in architecture, not in will.
Are greed and fear in markets always harmful?
As information, no — extreme sentiment often marks unusual market phases. They become harmful as decision-makers: the moment the feeling, instead of the rule, triggers the order.
Documentation, not financial advice. No signals. Nobody can invest here.