After a loss, revenge trading doesn’t start with greed. It starts with discomfort. A tight feeling in the chest. That quiet disbelief of how something that looked so clear went wrong. At first, I’d tell myself it was fine. Just a loss. But a few minutes later, something shifted. The loss stopped being about money. It became personal. I’d feel this urge to jump back in, not because the setup made sense, but because staying out felt like accepting defeat. The market felt disrespectful. Like it took something from me and walked away. I wanted it back immediately, before doubt had time to settle. That’s when judgment blurred. I’d size up without realizing it. Conviction would rise out of nowhere, built on nothing solid. A small win would feel like proof that I was right all along. A bigger loss would feel unbearable, but closing it felt worse. So I’d hold. I’d argue with the screen. I’d wait for the market to apologize. Revenge trading, for me, was never about strategy. It was about control. About refusing to sit with the idea that I was wrong, even briefly. The strange part is this: the market never felt hostile again once I stopped taking losses as insults. The noise faded when I accepted that the pain wasn’t caused by price. It came from my need to fight something that was never fighting me back.