@Badabadoo
more from that month
I stared at the hardbound copy of my thesis like it had betrayed me
I stared at the hardbound copy of my thesis like it had betrayed me It was a month of work, sleepless nights, and all the coffee-fueled revisions, finally printed. And yet, right there in gold letters it says a wrong title. That moment broke me a little. Not because the mistake was life-shattering, but because it came after everything. After I thought I’d done my best. After I let myself breathe. I suddenly felt like it would all be taken away, our graduation, our clearance, everything...over a few missing words on the cover. It reminded me of how my professor once returned my paper over one sentence. That anxious voice came back louder: “What if they reject it? What if they reject me?” But here’s the plot twist: nothing exploded. I didn’t fail. I didn’t get kicked out. What I got was... a pause. A breath. A moment of kindness from people who understood that yes, mistakes happen, even when you’re trying your hardest. So I fixed it. We reprinted. We rebounded. And you know what? That version looked even better. Like it had gone through something and survived. Sometimes we expect the world to be strict with us because we’re already strict with ourselves. But life and people often give more grace than we think. We just have to ask. Or cry a little. Then ask again. Now, whenever something feels like the end of the world, I ask myself... Is this a wrong title on a good book? Because if it is, we can always change the cover. And the story still stands strong.
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