THE MIRROR TEST: Why your friend group is keeping you broke

Sunday. 7:12 AM.

Aj walked into the kitchen while I was making coffee.

Still half-asleep, scrolling through his phone, probably replying to whoever he brought back Friday night.

He looked at me. Then at the time. Then back at me.

"You're up early again."

Not a question. An observation. Almost like he's documenting evidence of something he doesn't understand.

I didn't respond. Just poured my coffee and sat by the window.

He shrugged. Went back to his room.

That interaction happens at least twice a week now.

And every time, it reminds me of something most people refuse to accept.

THE OBSERVATION:

Last month, I stopped talking to three people I'd known for years.

Not because of drama. Not because they wronged me. Not because I'm on some superiority complex.

Because every conversation with them was the same cycle:

Complaining about their situation. Discussing what they're going to do. Never actually doing it. Repeat next week.

One of them has been "about to start" a business for eight months.

Another keeps talking about leaving his job but renews his contract every year.

The third spends more time researching productivity systems than actually being productive.

Smart people. Good people. Just completely stuck.

And I realized something:

You can't climb while carrying people who refuse to move.

Not because you're being selfish. Because misalignment is contagious.

Their stagnation becomes your baseline. Their excuses become your reference point. Their comfort becomes your ceiling.

THE PATTERN:

Here's what nobody tells you about social circles:

The people closest to you aren't neutral. They're either pulling you up or holding you down.

There's no middle ground.

If someone isn't actively moving in the direction you're trying to go, they're passively anchoring you to where you currently are.

Not intentionally. Not maliciously.

Just by existing as your reference point for what's normal.

When everyone around you operates at a certain level, that level becomes your unconscious standard.

If your friends wake up at 10 AM, you'll feel excessive waking up at 6.

If your friends are content with their 9-5, you'll feel unrealistic wanting more.

If your friends treat ambition like a phase, you'll start questioning whether yours is valid.

This is how average people stay average.

Not through lack of effort. Through social calibration.

Your brain constantly adjusts to match the group. It's evolutionary. It kept our ancestors alive in tribes.

But now it keeps you mediocre in cities.

THE MECHANISM:

I've tested this repeatedly over the last four months.

Every time I'm around people operating at a higher level than me, my standards automatically raise.

I start noticing inefficiencies I was previously blind to.

I start questioning habits I thought were optimal.

I start moving faster because slower suddenly feels like stagnation.

Every time I'm around people operating below where I want to be, the opposite happens.

I start rationalizing why I can take the day off.

I start justifying why certain goals aren't realistic right now.

I start moving slower because fast suddenly feels excessive.

Same person. Different environment. Completely different output.

Your circle isn't just social. It's operational infrastructure.

If you're trying to build something and everyone around you is maintaining something, you're fighting uphill.

If you're trying to scale and everyone around you is comfortable, you're fighting alone.

Eventually, you either adjust to the group or leave the group.

There's no third option.

THE AUDIT:

Here's what I did last month:

Wrote down every person I interact with regularly. Not acquaintances. People who actually influence my week.

Next to each name, I wrote one of three labels:

Accelerant - Being around them raises my standards Neutral - No significant impact either direction
Anchor - Being around them lowers my standards

Then I asked one question for each anchor:

"Is this person actively working to change their situation, or are they comfortable where they are?"

If comfortable, I stopped initiating contact.

Didn't announce it. Didn't make it dramatic. Just stopped reaching out.

Some noticed. Most didn't.

The ones who noticed and cared reached out. We're still connected.

The ones who didn't notice? That tells you everything about the relationship's actual value.

THE RESULT:

Three people gone from regular contact.

My calendar suddenly had more space.

My mental energy suddenly had more capacity.

My standards suddenly had more room to rise.

Within two weeks, I was operating differently.

Not because I was more disciplined. Because my baseline shifted.

When you remove the people pulling your average down, the average naturally rises.

THE APPLICATION:

This week, run the audit yourself.

Write down every person who has regular access to your time and attention.

Label them: Accelerant, Neutral, or Anchor.

For every anchor, ask: Are they moving or are they comfortable?

If they're moving, keep them. They're just at a different stage. That's fine.

If they're comfortable and trying to make you comfortable too, that's the problem.

You don't owe anyone access to your trajectory.

Not your childhood friends. Not your university classmates. Not even family if they're actively pulling you backwards.

Loyalty to stagnant people is just loyalty to stagnation.

You're not abandoning them. You're protecting your standards.

They can come with you if they want. But you're not staying where you are just to keep them company.

Most won't understand this. They'll call it cold. Ruthless. Unnecessary.

Those are the same people who'll be in the exact same position five years from now, wondering why nothing changed.

You're not trying to be like them.

You're trying to reach the upper echelon.

And the upper echelon doesn't get there by maintaining friendships with people allergic to motion.

Run the audit. Cut the anchors. Protect your standards.

Excuses don't build empires.

Proximity does.

—Tai

P.S.

Aj asked me last week why I've been "distant" lately with some of our mutual friends.

Told him: "I'm not distant. I'm selective. There's a difference."

He didn't get it. Went back to scrolling.

That's fine. He doesn't need to get it.

But you do.

You're still reading. That means you already know who the anchors are.

The question is whether you're going to do something about it