People say this time is different every cycle.
In Bitcoin it is almost a ritual. Whispers turn to declarations that the cycles are finished, the four year rhythm broken, the old patterns irrelevant. They speak with the certainty of someone predicting that the sun will not rise tomorrow simply because the sky looks a little cloudy tonight.
But history is stubborn.
Every time the crowd insists the cycles are gone, the cycle quietly returns, almost amused by the confidence of those who forgot how many times this story has already played out. Like dawn, it does not care about sentiment. It does not negotiate. It arrives because the conditions for its arrival are built into the very mechanics of the system.
Bitcoin’s halving is the sunrise.
Human psychology is the weather.
And the market is the horizon where the two collide.
Every era has its prophets of the new paradigm, but markets have a way of humbling that idea. The sun has risen every day of human memory, and Bitcoin’s cycle has repeated every time anyone was brave enough to declare it dead.
Until the incentives change, until the structure itself changes, believing the cycles are over is like betting your life savings that morning simply will not show up. Not because the laws of nature have shifted, but because you are tired of waking up early.
And so the cycle waits patiently.
It does not need belief.
It only needs time.
Everyday is an opportunity to stack more