I was right first, and that used to feel like a curse. Not because being right was the goal, but because being early meant being alone with the knowing. Before the explanations. Before the evidence. Before anyone else was ready to see what I could already feel settling into place.
Being right first doesn’t come with applause. It comes with doubt. From others, yes, but mostly from yourself. You’re encouraged to wait. To soften your conclusions. To stay open-minded. And you do, because you don’t want to be rigid or unfair. You don’t want to confuse intuition with fear. So you stay. You watch. You gather context while quietly holding a truth that hasn’t been confirmed yet.
What people don’t talk about is how heavy that waiting can be. Carrying awareness without validation. Knowing where something is headed but not being able to justify acting on it without sounding dramatic. You learn to keep your instincts private. You learn to smile through the discomfort. You learn how to sit with the feeling of “this won’t last” while everyone else is still hopeful.
I used to think being right first meant I was pessimistic. That I didn’t give things enough of a chance. But the truth is, I gave too many chances. I stayed long after my intuition had already done the math. I waited for proof because proof felt like permission. Permission to leave. Permission to stop explaining. Permission to trust myself without guilt.
When the proof finally arrived, it never felt like a revelation. It felt like a confirmation I didn’t need anymore. By then, the knowing had already settled. The outcome didn’t shock me. It just validated what I had been quietly carrying the whole time.
There’s a grief that comes with that realization. Not because you were wrong, but because you didn’t listen sooner. Because being right first could have saved you time, energy, and emotional labor if you had trusted it instead of negotiating with it.
I’ve learned that being right first isn’t about prediction. It’s about awareness. It’s noticing patterns before they repeat loudly. It’s sensing misalignment before it turns into damage. It’s recognizing when something doesn’t feel sustainable, even if it still feels exciting.
People like to believe that clarity only counts once it’s obvious. But clarity doesn’t wait for consensus. It shows up early and quietly, asking you if you’re willing to trust yourself without needing everyone else to catch up.
I don’t rush decisions anymore, but I also don’t dismiss what I feel just because it hasn’t been proven yet. I let intuition and time have a conversation instead of forcing one to override the other. And when the same knowing remains steady, I listen.
Being right first doesn’t make you superior. It makes you responsible. Responsible for whether you honor what you see or silence it until it’s undeniable. Responsible for whether you choose alignment early or pain later.
I don’t need to announce when I’m right anymore. I don’t need the validation that comes after the fact. I need the peace that comes from trusting myself the first time something doesn’t sit right.
Because the truth is, being right first isn’t the flex. Listening first is.
Final Thought
You weren’t wrong.
You were early.
Next time, don’t wait for the echo to trust the knowing.
Disclaimer
Delusional, But Correct is written from personal reflection and intuitive experience. It’s not professional advice or a substitute for therapy or clinical guidance. Take what resonates. Leave what doesn’t.
