My bitcoin enthusiasm doesn’t wane; it compounds.
1 BTC = 1 BTC. The market can thrash around all it wants, but truth doesn’t change its weight just because the crowd gets dizzy.
Dips like these feel almost sweet. Unwinds don’t rattle me; I stack spot for a reason. Watching leverage get wiped clean is like watching the fog lift; the signal survives, the noise gets incinerated.
I don’t chase euphoria and I don’t bail under pressure. I stack, I hold, and I let time reveal what panic always hides: better days are earned by those who refuse to flinch.

