The Fed can nudge bitcoin’s fiat price like a gust pushing a ship’s mast, but it can’t touch the part of me committed to accumulating more. That disconnect between surface volatility and inner conviction; that’s where opportunity hides. Smart money stays prepared, and prepared money doesn’t flinch. When you understand the plumbing of the system, rate decisions stop feeling like omens and start looking like noise. I don’t even know if I qualify as smart money. Maybe I’m just relentless money: stubborn, steady, unbothered by the line between front running the future and riding the wake of every pump. If digging in like a tick and going down with the ship is what the path demands, so be it. Conviction isn’t fragile. Fear of what, exactly? A little volatility? A narrative shift? Not me. I like when the story gets dark and the stakes rise; it means something real is happening. Bitcoin isn’t dead or dying: it’s a reminder that we are alive, that risk is the heartbeat of reward, and that the pulse only quickens when the world tries to shake you loose.