$PI You’re afraid to tell too many people what you’re doing. Afraid of being called naive, afraid of being mocked, afraid that if someone says, “You still believe this,” they’ll block your words so tightly you can’t speak at all. So you just do it quietly yourself, as if you’re secretly turning it on in the night—keeping a piece of candy to yourself. No one knows, and you don’t need anyone to know.

Later, the market drops, the waves of scolding get louder, and doubts sweep in everywhere. You watch that string of numbers on your phone, and you’ve wavered in your heart, too. But you open that app, your finger hovering above the screen—pausing for a few seconds—then you still press. You can’t quite explain why. Maybe it’s just this: you’ve already come this far, so taking two more steps can’t hurt.

Most choices in life aren’t made to the sound of applause. You switch jobs, change cities, decide to try again—when has any one of those ever been anything other than forcing yourself forward despite all the uncertainty? This time is the same. You can’t see the outcome, but you know you’re saving up a little hope for that possibly better future.

You don’t need to stake everything you have. You only need to spend those few seconds every day and keep believing.

One day, you’ll look back and thank yourself for who you are right now. Not because you made how much money, but because—you once, when everyone was saying “it won’t work,” softly told yourself: “Just wait a little longer.”