The Inflation Illusion

We live in a world where numbers dominate the way we measure success. Bigger paychecks, higher balances in the bank account, larger figures on the retirement statement—these things look like progress. But here’s the trick: when those numbers rise while the cost of everything around you rises faster, you’re not actually moving forward. You’re running in place. Worse, you’re running on a treadmill that someone else controls, and they keep quietly nudging up the speed.

That’s the inflation illusion. It makes you feel wealthier while you’re actually getting poorer. The problem isn’t just that prices creep up, it’s that we’ve been conditioned to see the growth of numbers as a sign of prosperity, even when the reality beneath those numbers is eroding.

Picture this: In 2000, you walk into the grocery store with $50. You walk out with a cart loaded with food. Fast forward to today. You hand over that same $50 and maybe leave with a handful of items. Yet, if your paycheck has doubled in that same span, you’re told you should feel richer. On paper, you are. In reality, your money doesn’t go as far as it once did. That’s not progress, it’s a treadmill.

Inflation is built into the fiat system. Governments print more money to cover deficits, stimulate economies, or respond to crises. Each new unit of currency dilutes the value of the ones already in existence. The treadmill speeds up. Most people don’t notice because their paychecks also rise, at least a little. They mistake the illusion of bigger numbers for actual improvement. It’s like running faster on the treadmill and convincing yourself you’re exploring new ground when you’re stuck in the same room.

This illusion is powerful because it plays on human psychology. We like to see growth in absolute terms. If you earned $50,000 last year and $55,000 this year, that feels like progress. The numbers went up. But if your rent, groceries, gas, and taxes went up by more than that, your increased paycheck is just a larger hamster wheel. You’re sweating harder for the same or even less.

Economists call this the difference between nominal and real value. Nominally, you’re richer because the numbers on the screen are higher. Really, you’re not, because what those numbers can buy has shrunk. That shrinking is invisible if you only focus on the paycheck and not on the rising cost of life.

The treadmill has another cruel feature: it adapts. As you run harder, costs of living inflate further. People end up exhausted, working two jobs, stretching paychecks thinner, convinced they just need to work harder or negotiate better. In truth, they’re trapped in a system designed to keep them running.

Enter Bitcoin, the stairway out. Unlike the treadmill, Bitcoin doesn’t shift under your feet. Its supply is fixed: 21 million coins, ever. Nobody can sneak more into circulation to dilute what you hold. Each step up the stairway is actual progress, not an illusion created by someone moving the floor beneath you.

Consider two people in 2015. One saves $1,000 in cash. The other saves $1,000 in Bitcoin. Fast forward ten years. The one who saved in cash has less purchasing power, groceries, rent, and bills all cost more. That $1,000 feels smaller. The one who saved in Bitcoin, despite the volatility along the way, has seen their purchasing power grow. Their step up the stairway has taken them to a higher floor, one where the view looks very different.

Bitcoin exposes the lie of inflation because it forces you to measure wealth not in inflated fiat terms but in purchasing power over time. It reprograms your sense of progress. You begin to notice that a dollar saved is a dollar lost to time, while a satoshi saved is a claim on the future.

This is why governments and central banks cling so tightly to the illusion. Inflation is not just an economic force, it’s a political tool. It allows debts to be repaid with cheaper money. It keeps populations chasing higher numbers without realizing the ground beneath them is crumbling. When you measure in fiat, you stay hypnotized. When you measure in Bitcoin, the spell breaks.

It’s like living in a house of mirrors. Everywhere you look, you see distorted reflections of growth: higher GDP, higher wages, higher stock prices. But behind the mirrors, the real economy is strained, hollowed out by constant devaluation. Bitcoin smashes the mirrors and reveals the room for what it is.

This isn’t to say Bitcoin is easy. Stairways are harder than treadmills. Climbing takes intention, effort, and patience. You don’t get the dopamine hit of immediate number-go-up every time. You may even feel like you’re standing still during periods of volatility. But the fundamental difference is this: the stairway is real. Each step secures ground that won’t collapse beneath you.

The inflation illusion thrives because it hides in plain sight. When people hear the official inflation rate, 2%, 3%, 7%, they shrug. What they don’t see is that those small percentages compound over decades, quietly stealing wealth generation after generation. A dollar from your parents’ time is worth pennies now. Their effort, their savings, their time—it was siphoned away invisibly.

On the treadmill, no matter how hard you run, you age, you tire, and eventually, you fall. On the stairway, each step leaves you higher than before. Time works for you instead of against you.

The choice, then, is stark. Do you stay on the treadmill, hypnotized by bigger numbers that mean less with every passing year? Or do you step off and begin climbing the stairway, one satoshi at a time, toward real progress?

The inflation illusion is one of the greatest tricks ever pulled. It convinces people they’re free while chaining them to endless motion. Bitcoin doesn’t just offer an alternative currency, it offers an exit. A way to stop running in place and start moving upward.

At the end of the day, the question isn’t whether the treadmill will keep speeding up, it will. The question is whether you’ll keep running, or finally take the stairs.