You don't chase the high. You build the floor that means you never fall.
You want the ground to hold. Not because you're afraid — because you've felt it give way once, and you decided never again. You're the friend with the spare charger, the emergency fund, the exit already mapped. People mistake that for caution. It's actually control of the one variable everyone else leaves to luck. The trade: the floor you build can quietly become a ceiling. The thing you're most proud of — never gambling — is also the door you never let yourself walk through.
Get your read — free on iPhoneyou crave stability because somewhere back there, the ground moved when it wasn't supposed to — and you swore you'd never be caught off-guard again.