The Moment I Stopped Explaining
We were sitting in the truck after work, dust still clinging to our boots, the sun sinking behind the job site. My buddy was scrolling through TikTok, laughing at some crypto hype videos. He looked over and said, “You still doing that Bitcoin thing?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He smirked. “You know it’s just gambling, right?”
I chuckled, but not because it was funny. I’d had this same talk too many times. The script never changed.
Still, I launched into it — proof of work, fixed supply, decentralized network, the usual sermon. By the time I hit “energy-backed trustless ledger,” his eyes had already glazed over. I knew I’d lost him.
When we pulled up to his house, he asked, “You really think that internet money’s gonna change the world?”
I wanted to say yes, to pour everything I’d learned into one final pitch. But I didn’t. I just said, “We’ll see.”
The Pattern
It wasn’t just him. My girlfriend asked me once why I spent so much time reading Bitcoin articles instead of watching shows with her. I told her it mattered — that it wasn’t about money, but truth. She smiled, kissed my cheek, and said, “You and your weird rabbit holes.”
I tried explaining it again, but the more I talked, the more her smile drifted somewhere else.
That’s when it hit me: explaining Bitcoin to someone who isn’t ready is like describing color to the blind. You can’t talk someone into seeing. They have to open their eyes themselves.
So I stopped.
The Friction
At work, I used to jump into every conversation about prices going up. “That’s inflation,” I’d say. “You know why it happens, right?” Cue the nods, the polite smiles, and the quick subject change.
One day, I caught myself mid-sentence and just stopped talking. My buddy was halfway through a Dogecoin joke, waiting for me to react. I didn’t. I just smiled and went back to my sandwich.
It felt weird at first, like holding my breath underwater. But then it felt good.
Silence became my new proof of work.
The Shift
Something shifted after that. I stopped trying to convince people. I stopped arguing online. I stopped measuring my understanding by how well I could explain it.
Instead, I just lived it.
I stacked quietly. I learned more. I built something real — my writing, my conviction, my peace.
It’s funny how when you stop trying to convert people, they start asking questions.
A few weeks later, the same coworker who used to clown on Bitcoin came up and said, “Hey, how do I buy some of that Bitcoin thing?”
I didn’t lecture. I just sent him a link and went back to work.
The Quiet Conviction
There’s a point when conviction becomes calm.
You stop needing others to see what you see. You stop defending your belief because it’s no longer theory — it’s part of you.
My girlfriend still teases me sometimes. But now, when she sees the news about inflation or another currency collapse, she glances over and says, “Bitcoin, huh?”
And I just smile.
Because she’s starting to get it. Not because I told her, but because reality did.
The Ending
Last week, we were driving home again. Same buddy, same dust-covered truck. He sighed and said, “Man, everything’s getting expensive. Gas, food, everything.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He paused. “You still buying Bitcoin?”
“Every week.”
He didn’t say anything after that. Just nodded.
And in that silence, I felt something rare these days — peace.
I used to talk about Bitcoin all the time. Now I just live it.
Funny thing is, that’s when people finally start listening.
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