When I was a sophomore in high school, I was still a playground kid, and my grades were in the middle to low range of the local high school.
I was particularly impressed that towards the end of my freshman year of high school, my homeroom teacher had talked to my parents about placing me in the liberal arts side of the class because on the one hand my poor grades would lower the class average, but more crucially.
I used to sneak Japanese manga and martial arts novels from the rental bookstore in front of the school into the classroom, and then the boys in the back row were eager to learn more about the subject.
I was so scared that I couldn’t even memorize all the abbreviations of the 34 provinces and cities, and then immediately made an appointment with my family to buy me a PS2, which had just been released at that time, if my grades improved and I didn’t get shunted to a slower class.
When I was in junior high school, I went to a classmate’s house and saw the PS1 and Final Fantasy 7, which directly impacted my outlook on life, that there were still such fun consoles. –This, of course, eventually led me to become a senior media researcher on the verge of losing my job.
Without going into details, I did “earn” my first PS2, model 15000, and my first game was “True Triple Threat 1”, yes, not the second generation, which was a huge hit, but the original generation.
In retrospect, I had what is now known as procrastination, because when DEADLINE really came around, I realized I could still cry while holding the Buddha’s feet.
Then in my senior year of high school, the parents who had discovered the knack promised very generous terms for the college entrance exam, so I thought I could “earn” it again, and my score went from 530 on the first test at the beginning of my senior year to 660 on the third test (out of 750).
But at that time, I noticed a very strange phenomenon.
I was working hard, we were all working hard, and as the number one ranked high school in the area with a long history, we weren’t stupid, and basically everyone who should be working hard was working hard.
But there was a ceiling, like an invisible wall, that kept us each in different divisions.
No matter how hard I struggle and try, it’s like in the martial arts novels I’ve read, the second male martial artist just can’t progress any further and never becomes the main character.
I even secretly observed and tailed a few of the top students of the class who were later admitted to Tsinghua and Fudan University. At that time, we were the first senior resident students of the high school, and we all lived and ate together Monday through Saturday, so we could see our schedules, and we didn’t have as many cram classes as we do now.
This made me feel a little frustrated as I always thought that “a little bit of luck can make a miracle”, similar to the feeling of “crossing into a different world and repeatedly confirming that I don’t have superpowers and am not the hero who can open a harem”.
But one day, I overheard a conversation between the parents of a classmate and best friend and my parents, and I was very touched by what they said.
When my best friend went home, he also said with frustration, “Why did Big Head Wu’s grades jump so quickly?
There was an invisible wall in front of me, separating me from my peers who were able to get into C9, and I was frustrated and discouraged by it.
Like the C9 looking up to the Top 2 wall, the 985 looking up to the C9 wall, and the 211 looking up to the 985 wall, we are all trapped in this row of walls from which we cannot escape.
Everyone has an invisible wall in front of them.
So no one is in a position to criticize why someone can’t get into 985, which I think is low, because everyone’s ceiling is different.
When I was in high school, the wall of air I saw was determined by my academic ability and IQ talent. Later, as I grew up, I realized that this wall also included various factors such as wealth, family, social status, quality, character, and luck.
The more you grow up, the more you can touch this wall, the more you will appreciate the ubiquity of this wall, and your own sense of powerlessness – and finally people slowly start to ridicule “impotence is the good fortune of middle-aged people”.
The same goes for investing, which requires us to figure out where our unique wall of energy is, and then form our own investment logic around it.
If you can do this, you will be able to “understand yourself” and you will be in the right place.
Who would willingly give up if they don’t hit the south wall once, and who would spit out chicken soup if they don’t find it poisonous once? Most importantly.
We do not judge others by our own walls.
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