Not to Win, But to Witness: Investing in What You Hope Will Endure

By someone who once believed effort alone could outwit volatility

The Illusion of Knowing

I began investing sometime around 2018–2019. I don’t remember the exact date—what I do remember is the confidence. I thought I knew what I was doing. I studied charts, spotted discounts from previous all-time highs, and replicated this logic across Singapore and China ADR stocks.

For a while, it worked. I saw gains. I felt affirmed. I thought in zero-sum-game world, I belonged to the winners, the fortunate few.

But on hindsight, so did almost everyone else. The tide was rising, and I mistook it for skill.

The Reckoning

Then came 2021–2022. My positions turned red. Some deeply. I didn’t panic—I hadn’t overextended. I waited, not because I could take the losses emotionally. Tactically, I didn't have any other better ideas. I refused to realise the losses. I told myself many versions. "It won't last more than 1 week." Days went by. I had another version - "China afterall isn't so much as a free market and Singapore just had limited funds circulating." "Maybe I am gamed by the market makers." "Well, buying stocks is like having an own company, sometimes it doesn't have to look rosy, so long the business is still viable and bring in money in operational level." So on.

Of course, I didn't talk myself out of it - having confidence in the market. Nonetheless, I continued to do nothing as work becoming overwhelming.

By 2024–2025, they finally returned to green, but the gains were modest. I wished I could have continued to place more bets (automatically) since I did nothing much when I was busy with my full-time job.

That recovery wasn’t vindication. It was revelation. I saw how fragile my strategy had been. How much of it depended on timing, emotion, and luck disguised as logic.

The Quiet Pivot

I realized something simple: If I had just dollar cost averaged, my returns might’ve been similar—or even better. No chart-reading. No mental acrobatics. Just showing up month after month.

DCA doesn’t dazzle. It doesn’t feel clever. But it works with time, not against it. And for someone risk-averse, it offers not just returns—but relief.

A Portfolio That Reflects, Not Performs

My SGEX portfolio today isn’t just diversified—it’s narratively coherent. Each stock is a quiet vote for the systems I trust, the futures I imagine, and the values I want to echo.

Here’s a snapshot:

Investing as Stewardship

Each of these stocks reflects a thread in my philosophy:

Stewardship over speculation

I favor companies that demonstrate operational resilience, ethical intent, and quiet relevance. Some may not last 20 years—but they show up with purpose today, and I honour that.

Systems that enable, not just evolve

I invest in companies and platforms that support others: payment rails, trust infrastructures, and everyday logistics. Not every system scales. Some simply hold the world together.

Narrative coherence with room to revise

My portfolio is a story—but stories evolve. Conviction fades, patience ebbs, and sometimes I hold positions I no longer believe in. That, too, is part of the arc.

Risk as dialogue

I don’t chase risk, but I engage with it. Every loss has something to teach—about timing, temperament, or the courage to hold through discomfort. Paper losses are not failures. They’re conversations.

Capital as quiet witness

I invest in what I hope will endure—not what I assume will succeed. Some companies mirror my beliefs. Others stretch them. Either way, my capital is a form of observation, not conquest.

An Invitation to the Risk-Averse

If you’ve felt that investing is a game rigged against the careful, I understand. I used to believe that more effort meant more control.

Now, I believe in rhythm over reaction. In presence over precision. In capital as quiet activism.

You don’t need to beat the system. You just need to stop letting it beat you.

Maybe it wasn't about winning, it was about believing. Even if your belief was wrong, there was a path and direction which you chose and treaded, and it was an experience, uniquely yours.

Sometimes we lose, but we tried, because we just wanted to know how far are we away from it.