For the first time in two weeks I stopped the rhythm. I was on fire. I was getting everything I need. I felt like this is exactly where I want to be, figured everything is exactly what I would have hoped for in the past. But for a split-second it wasn’t. I sighed. And I knew there was something wrong when I shed some tears while watching Mr. Big down on his knees, offering a diamond-clad 500-dollar shoe asking Carrie Bradshaw to marry him.
At that moment I felt like I should just let go. Stop pretending that everything is okay when really, it isn’t. I know I am tough—but deep inside this armor, the warrior is a child. And yes, I do look like one, but the point is like the Gary V song, most people don’t know that I come running home when I fall down. Maybe I should, maybe being EMO for a second wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up feeling better. I know I’ll regain my strides. I know I’ll be fine. But tonight I am not. Tonight I am scared. Tonight I have to admit that this self-wallowing is gratifying. This is the price I have to pay so I can feel better tomorrow.
It’s like the share prices in the stock market. It’s going to correct at a certain point because it’s too high already, that it’s only artificial. Maybe I am like that. I am feeling high about the fact that I love everything that’s happening to me now. Well, ok: most—not everything. But still, this moment is my correction period. My way of telling myself to take it easy because you’ll get that TP (target price) in time. But now you just have to be contented with being traded at a discount.
But I can’t wait to outperform the market. My gut feel tells me the potential upside is limitless.
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