Once an introvert goes silent, it's over. Finished. Done. They're givers. Loving, kind, empathetic. They'll give you chances after chances. Over & over again. They feel your pain. But once they go silent, you'll never see them again. Not in this life.
How to analyze a stock in 11 steps:
• Business profile
• Revenue split
• Management
• Moat
• SWOT Analysis
• Capital intensity & allocation
• Balance sheet
• Profitability
• Historical growth & outlook
• Valuation
• Value creation
I'll show you step by step:
Introverts know things. They've seen pain. Loneliness. Darkness. They can help you, but only if you can handle the truth. They're brutally honest. They don't sugar-coat or beat around the bush. They'll tell you what to do and how to do it. Take it or leave. Just don't argue.
The Romans created tombs for their dogs and gave them epitaphs to remember them by. One such inscription read: "I am in tears, while carrying you to your last resting place as much as I rejoiced when bringing you home with my own hands 15 years ago."
The Ancient Greeks and Romans believed that it was essential to have a good dog. They pop up everywhere in Ancient Roman and Greek literature, art, and mythology. The gates to the underworld were guarded by a three-headed dog, Zeus himself was guarded as an infant by a faithful golden dog named Laelaps, and Homer's hero, Odysseus, wept tears of joy when his old dog, Argus, recognized him after many years away. Dogs were used as guards, hunting companions, and even in battle, but they were also part of the family.
The epitaph on one dog grave that was discovered reads: "To Helena, foster child, soul without comparison and deserving of praise."
It's human nature to imagine our dogs have a voice, and the owner of one Ancient Roman dog took this tendency literally to the grave: "Thou who passest on this path, If haply thou dost mark this monument, Laugh not, I pray thee, though it is a dog's grave. Tears fell for me, and the dust was heaped above me By a master's hand," their dog's grave reads. Another's tells the visitor how much his owner loved him in his "own" words: "This is the tomb of the dog, Stephanos, who perished, Whom Rhodope shed tears for and buried like a human. I am the dog Stephanos, and Rhodope set up a tomb for me.
Not every ancient dog tomb is so fanciful. A simple yet heartfelt epitaph reads: "Myia never barked without reason, but now he is silent."
Introverts are givers. Whatever you give, they give you back double. Reciprocation runs in their blood. They never demand. They never complain. And they absolutely never take more. But the only thing they expect is fairness. To get back a little. To feel appreciated. That's all.
Introverts don't revenge, they disappear. They feel too much. Talking about it only makes it worse. So they just leave. To feel it. To think about it. To process it. To make sense of it. To make themselves believe that it's over. And to heal their own heart in silence.