I used to chase speed. Not just any speed—the kind that makes headlines. Triple-digit revenue growth. Explosive user adoption. Stocks that don’t just climb, they levitate. I wanted companies that made yesterday look irrelevant and tomorrow feel like it was already priced in. If it wasn’t growing fast, I wasn’t interested. And for a while, that worked. Fast growth is intoxicating. It gives you a narrative, and markets love narratives. A company isn’t just a business—it becomes the future . You stop asking what it’s worth and start asking how big it can get. Every quarter becomes a scoreboard. Every earnings report is either validation or betrayal. But here’s the thing no one tells you when you’re addicted to growth: Fast growth doesn’t end dramatically. It fades. And when it fades, the opportunity doesn’t disappear. It moves. The Slow Death of Fast Growth The first time I really noticed it, I didn’t want to believe it. The company still looked great on paper. Revenue was stil...
I remember the first time I thought I understood growth stocks. It was the intoxicating phase—the headlines, the charts that only seemed to move in one direction, the feeling that I had discovered something before everyone else did. Revenue growth was exploding, margins didn’t matter, and every dip looked like a gift wrapped in opportunity. It felt less like investing and more like surfing a wave that refused to break. But then something changed. Not overnight. Not in some dramatic collapse that forces you to confront reality all at once. No—what I experienced was subtler, more psychological, and far more dangerous if you didn’t recognize it for what it was. I had entered the second stage of growth stocks. And I didn’t even realize it at first. The Illusion of Infinite Growth In the early stage, growth stocks feel almost mythological. The narrative is simple: the company is disrupting something, expanding rapidly, and the market is rewarding it accordingly. Revenue growth is the north ...