On obsession, identity, and the 24/7 market that never lets you rest.
A market without mercy
There is a phenomenon, a psychological trap, that modernity has birthed in the form of crypto trading. It is not merely a financial system or a technological evolution. It is a mirror. A mirror that reflects the deepest compulsions of the human soul — our hunger for order, our susceptibility to chaos, and our desperate need for meaning in the face of uncertainty.
Since 2021, I’ve immersed myself in this world. Over 50 crypto apps have passed through my phone. From centralised exchanges to obscure DeFi dashboards, from wallets to NFT platforms, the story is the same: an endless dance of opportunity and anxiety.
It is the very embodiment of chaos masquerading as control.
The new rituals of attention
I check my X feed and Telegram groups compulsively, not because I seek knowledge, but because I crave certainty. But crypto offers none. It is a market that never sleeps. No breaks. No weekends. No close of day.
TradingView and DexScreener aren’t just tools. They’ve become altars. Sites of both revelation and ruin. I rebalance my portfolio obsessively, often multiple times a day. I’ve exited losses, only to jump into another trade hours later. A pattern not of strategy, but of revenge.
This isn’t research. It’s a loop. A liturgy. A hunger masquerading as diligence.
And all along, CEX brands tell you they’re making their interface easier. Smoother. Smarter. But no one is designing a calmer way to trade. There are infinite dashboards for data, but no sanctuary for clarity. UX in crypto often says, “Here’s more control.” It rarely says, “Here’s how to slow down.”
Not doomscrolling. Doom trading.
Unlike social media, which captures attention through curated content, crypto demands it through direct psychological engagement. It’s a 24/7 dopamine machine without an algorithm.
No feed. No scroll. Just price. Just movement. Just obsession.
It is the worst version of doomscrolling.Let’s call it what it is: doom trading.
Every candle becomes a question. Every dip a threat. Every pump a promise. The charts do not merely measure market sentiment. They measure mine. My fear. My hope. My self-worth.
TradingView’s tagline says “Look first, then leap.”
But what it doesn’t tell you is that the leap isn’t into clarity.
It’s a plunge, into layers of chaos, uncertainty, and quiet anxiety that sticks with you long after the chart closes.
You don’t leap once. You keep leaping. Again and again.
Because the more you look, the more you feel like you’re missing something.
And in crypto, missing out feels like sin.
Conviction or compulsion?
Here’s the brutal irony. I would’ve made more if I had just held.
But I didn’t. Because it wasn’t about gains. It was about motion. About needing to respond. To act. In the absence of a clearly defined hierarchy of values, action becomes reaction. And reaction, over time, becomes chaos.
That’s the fundamental psychological problem of modern investing, especially in crypto. The tools are advanced. The access is limitless. But the inner structure? Often missing.
Will AI save us from ourselves?
There’s a growing belief that AI agents will eventually manage all this for us. They’ll rebalance portfolios, monitor sentiment, execute trades more efficiently, emotionlessly.
But here’s the danger. What if those agents simply become optimised extensions of our worst instincts? Faster. Smarter. Less human.
What if, instead of solving the problem, they scale it?
A return to first principles
So what’s the answer?
Maybe it’s not building smarter agents. Maybe it’s not another app, another dashboard, another Telegram group.
Maybe the answer is simpler, and harder.
Maybe it’s just holding Bitcoin.
Not because it’s perfect. But because it represents a refusal to be ruled by noise. A commitment to clarity over chaos. Signal over stimulation.
It’s a small act of rebellion in a system designed to consume your attention.
And that, at the very least, is a start.
Note: This is not financial advice. It’s a reflection on meaning, compulsion, and the mental architecture we bring to our digital decisions.
I’ve also created a speculative brand showcase of a better trading app: one designed for clarity instead of chaos. Explore it here: ZENO: A crypto brand built for clarity
The candle and the self: A story of doom trading was originally published in Coinmonks on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.