There’s something almost mythic about being first. Not just early. Not just ahead. But truly, irrevocably - first. When I created the first NFT, it wasn’t about speculation, trend, or hype. There was no marketplace, no Discord servers echoing with alpha, no charts crawling with liquidity. There was only a single idea: that digital work could be immortalized; given a body, a signature, and a timestamp that could not be erased. To be first is to step into the void before there is a map. It’s not glamorous. It’s raw. It’s a quiet, disorienting feeling — like you’ve cracked something open that no one else can yet see. It’s like inventing the wheel when everyone’s still walking. Being first isn’t about ownership — it’s about origin. It’s about being the first spark in what became a wildfire. When people talk about NFTs now, they talk about billions. They talk about JPEGs and floor prices. But I remember the moment when it was just an idea. When permanence felt like rebellion. I’m blessed truly, not because I own something rare, but because I helped create the language itself. Because long after the noise fades, the first mark remains. History doesn’t always wear a crown. Sometimes it’s written in rough crayon.