The other day, I defaulted on my quarterly taxes. I forgot to fund my account with enough fiat currency for the government to automatically steal.

Now I have to wade through the red tape of the notoriously punitive Spanish Hacienda to find out how to pay. It will probably involve 12-15 signed pieces of paper, a 55-minute queue, and much begging of a government official to get it done.

“It’s your own stupid fault,” you cry. “Are you too poor to pay your taxes?”

It was a mistake I made from tiredness and financial burnout.

If you haven’t noticed, there’s a monetary war going on.

Governments will protect their centralized shitcoins until they can’t. Merchants will fail to see the shift until mainstream media screams “Bitcoin” from the rooftops. And little old me? Well, I’m already ahead of the game, trying to keep exactly 0 fiat currency in my account at all times.

And that makes life… complicated.

As a bitcoin writer and publisher, I’m part of the resistance. I earn money in bitcoin, and I hodl as much as I can. But I'm forever wondering if/when/how I need to make the next sale or transfer.

Yes, there are bridging solutions, ways to pay in BTC, and it’s easier to move money around than before. But performing hundreds of monthly swaps and shifts to pay for your groceries and bus fare (not taxes, though) is tiring. Sometimes I forget. Sometimes it’s too much.

The Nostr zapping brigade tell you to spend your bitcoin, never sell! The Reddit memes urge you to ‘never spend your bitcoin’, only hodl! The LinkedIn Bitcoin VCs tell you to invest your bitcoin and capture the yield. The X influencers sell systems to minimise your tax liability — all you need is 2 weeks and an accounting degree to file your taxes.

For those of us who weren’t mining on laptops in 2010, who didn’t survive the ICO winter, who aren’t Bitcoin treasury vehicle execs, it’s painful. Like many bitcoiners, I come from a background of one bank account and one monthly paycheck. Now I’m managing multiple businesses, routing funds all over the world, and trying to remember to pay the electricity bill.

Of course, I try to wait until the last minute before converting money to the European Central Bank shitcoin.

Sometimes I forget. Sometimes it’s too complicated.

I live in a constant state of fear. It’s like I’m trapped between the trenches on the front line. On one side, bankers, government officials and tax agents send wave after wave of fiat slaves over the top; on the other side, rabid crypto anarchists and cypherpunk developers defend their territory through obfuscation, guerrilla warfare and laser-eyes attacks.

“Just do the work,” you think. “I’ve learned how to navigate the non-kyc p2p market, mastering my multisig self-custody setup, and running a full Lightning node to facilitate feeless transactions.”

I can’t learn about every aspect of the bitcoinverse. Not all at once. I want to, but I can’t.

Humans are only capable of doing so much learning. And I learn about tons of other stuff every day — SEO, the startup and VC ecosystem, ever-changing social media algorithms, grammatical nuances, and the types of creativity AI can’t challenge yet.

My brain cares very much about how some things are constructed and why they work: Stand-up comedy, literary short stories, billboard advertising slogans, episodes of Seinfeld, the brains of house cats, the menus of failing local restaurants, GPS bus timetable info, and how acceptable it is to play on national stereotypes.

But as for machines, I don’t give a flying fuck (unless I’m in an aeroplane — then I care that it doesn’t fall from the sky).

My brain is not wired that way. I’ll consider why the Renault Megane was designed with a trunk that looks like a human butt. However, I’m not interested in how the 1.6L fuel injection engine works.

I’ll ponder why the antagonist was defeated so early in the movie, but not how the diodes emit the picture in crystal-clear 4k.

This is to say I want my funds to work for me — savings, spending, functionality. I’ve done 4 years of learning about finance, the network, and the 21 million what ifs. Dozens of books, hundreds of podcasts, thousands of hours.

All I want is for my day-to-day finances to be easier. There is just too much choice.

So many banks, neobanks, cards, and fiat financial products So many protocols, programs, and opsecs to consider So many lightning wallets. So much software. Then there’s eCash, lending platforms, home miners, and Core vs Knots.

Is it me or are things much more complicated than 10 years ago? Yes, we’re solving problems left and right, but more difficulties keep popping up.

It’s all well and good boasting that I live on a bitcoin standard, but I’m stuck. Really, I’m drowning in the mud between the trenches.

“So what?” You say. “I’m fine. Write code, DCA, post memes. Life is good.”

You can’t keep shooting everyone looking to get away from fiatland. I’m sorry I’m not a developer, but you need a few more creative types to dream up ways for you to win, right?

The thing about being in no man’s land is you have three choices, and standing still isn’t one of them.

I could go crying back to the fiat world — not a choice most rabbit-hole divers would take. I could lie down in the mud and pretend to be dead — earning and spending nothing is hard. I could get on my hands and knees and inch forward toward the promised land of bitcoin milk and honey.

There is no choice. I won’t surrender, even when the finish line seems to be retreating and the inflating fiat world gains ground. I’ll keep moving. Even when I’m tired, confused, injured, burned out, and desolate, I’ll push forward because I’m one of the few who have seen the light.

I hope all the books, tools, how-tos, and apps in my pack will help me, protect me, and kill my enemies.

Cypherpunks, all I ask is that you show your comrade a little compassion. We’re not all fighting a war of zeros and ones. Some of us forgot to pack our ASIC chips and GitHub repositories. All I have is a pen, paper, an empty bank account, and a bunch of tax forms to fill out.