To The Moon

I have always told myself that one day, I would invest in Singapore stocks.

It sounds ironic now, considering that today, my portfolio still contains exactly zero of them.

When I first started investing, I was young, curious, and armed with nothing more than YouTube videos, blog posts, and late-night Google searches. Like many beginners, I was looking for certainty in a world that had none. Somewhere online, I read that US stocks had historically outperformed Singapore stocks. Someone wrote that America was bigger, innovative and ambitious. Another said that the US market was where “real growth” happened.

So I believed it.

And just like that, I became a US-focused investor.

I bought ETFs, along with a few individual stocks. I read about Apple, Tesla, Microsoft, Amazon. I admired how these companies dominated globally. They felt powerful. They felt exciting. They felt like the future.

Tesla Motors (TSLA)

Apple (AAPL)

Or at least, that was what I told myself.

Back then, I equated excitement with opportunity. Volatility meant potential. If prices swung wildly, surely that meant there was money to be made. US stocks gave me that thrill. Watching charts move overnight while I slept made me feel like I was participating in something big, something global.

And over time, this belief hardened into habit.

US stocks became my comfort zone.

But recently, something changed.

It didn’t happen overnight. It wasn’t triggered by one article or one market crash. It came slowly, through small realizations.

I noticed the 30% withholding tax on US dividends. On other days, I felt uneasy watching SGD strengthen or weaken against USD. Sometimes, I calculated my returns and wondered how much I had quietly lost to currency exchange fees and fluctuations.

Then it hit me.

Why am I investing so far away, in a currency that isn’t mine, in companies I will never truly understand as well as those at home?

I am Singaporean.

I earn in SGD. I spend in SGD. I live in SGD.

Yet my investments were mostly in USD.

Suddenly, Singapore stocks caught my attention in a new way. They seemed… logical and in tune with my goals.

Singapore stocks pay dividends without that painful 30% cut. They operate in an environment I understand. I see DBS branches. I use Singtel. I read about ST Engineering in local news. These companies are part of my daily life. They are familiar. Tangible. Real.

ST Engineering (S63.SI)

Singtel 10 (Z77.SI)

DBS (D05.SI)

And familiarity breeds confidence.

As I grew older, my mindset shifted too.

I no longer chased excitement. I began to appreciate stability.

Where I once admired volatility, I now saw stress.

Where I once loved dramatic price swings, I now saw emotional exhaustion.

Slowly, I started valuing consistency over hype. Dividends over headlines. Sustainability over speculation.

That was when blue-chip Singapore stocks began to appeal to me.

DBS, with its strong balance sheet and steady growth. ST Engineering, with its diversified business. Singtel, deeply rooted in the region.

I also began to appreciate REITs. Regular income. Asset-backed businesses.

Lion-Phillip S-REITs (CLR) caught my attention. It represented everything I now wanted: income, stability, local exposure.

LION-PHILLIP S-REIT (CLR.SI)

In theory, everything aligned.

So why haven’t I bought any?

Because reality is rarely as neat as theory.

The Straits Times Index recently hit a 52-week high of 4895.150. Many stocks are trading near their peaks. Prices look expensive. Charts look stretched. Valuations feel uncomfortable.

STI ETF (ES3.SI)

Every time I open my trading app, I hesitate.

“Is this too high?” “What if it drops next month?” “Am I buying at the top?” “Will I regret this?”

I tell myself I don’t want to buy high and sell low.

But beneath that logic is something deeper.

Fear.

Fear of being wrong. Fear of bad timing. Fear of regret. Fear of becoming another FOMO victim.

I have seen it happen before. People rush in when prices are high, driven by excitement and headlines. Then the market corrects. Panic follows. Losses hurt more than gains ever pleased.

I don’t want to be that person.

So I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

While waiting, I watch prices climb higher.

Ironically, the more expensive stocks become, the harder it is for me to buy them. The opportunity feels bigger, but so does the risk. Every new high makes me more cautious, not more confident.

It becomes a strange psychological trap.

I want to invest. But only if prices fall.

Prices don’t fall. So I don’t invest.

And round and round it goes.

Sometimes, I wonder if I am overthinking.

After all, time in the market often beats timing the market. Many successful investors say that perfect entry points are an illusion. They say that consistency matters more than precision. They say that long-term investors shouldn’t obsess over short-term prices.

I know all this.

Intellectually.

Emotionally, it’s harder.

Because when it’s my money, logic competes with anxiety.

Another reason I hesitate is expectations.

When I imagine buying DBS at a high price, I worry: “What if it underperforms for years?” When I think about REITs near their highs, I wonder: “What if interest rates rise again?”

I don’t just want returns.

I want reassurance.

I want to feel smart.

I want to feel justified.

But markets don’t care about my need for validation.

They move anyway.

Sometimes I think this journey reflects more than just investing.

It reflects how I’ve grown.

In the beginning, I chased growth because I wanted fast progress in life. Now, I seek stability because I value peace.

In the beginning, I looked outward to America for opportunity. Now, I look inward, to my home.

In the beginning, I wanted excitement. Now, I want sustainability.

My shift toward Singapore stocks is not just financial.

It is personal.

It is about identity. About maturity. About knowing myself better.

I am no longer trying to “beat the market.” I am trying to build a life.

A life where my investments support my goals. Where dividends supplement my income. Where currency risk doesn’t keep me awake at night. Where familiarity breeds calm instead of complacency.

And yet, here I am, still standing at the edge, not quite stepping in.

Maybe the truth is: I am learning that investing is not just about numbers.

It is about psychology.

It is about patience. About courage. About accepting imperfection.

No entry point will ever feel perfect. No price will ever feel completely safe.

At some point, waiting becomes its own risk.

Perhaps my future self will look back and laugh.

“Why was I so scared to buy DBS at that price?” “Why didn’t I just start small?” “Why did I let fear delay my growth?”

Or maybe my caution will save me one day.

I don’t know.

What I do know is this:

My journey with Singapore stocks hasn’t really begun yet.

But it is already shaping me.

It is teaching me to balance optimism with realism. Ambition with restraint. Logic with emotion.

And when I finally make that first purchase — whether it’s DBS, ST Engineering, Singtel, or a REIT — it won’t just be another transaction.

It will be a quiet declaration.

That I trust my home. That I trust my judgment. That I am ready to grow, patiently, steadily, in my own currency, in my own country, at my own pace.

Not because prices are perfect.

But because I am finally brave enough to begin.