On 17 February 2025, I submitted my final thesis.
I remember that day. The silent click of “Submit,” the feeling of relief mixed with the kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones. I had poured myself into this research, line by line, sleepless night by sleepless night. When my professor signed off and approved it on 24 February, it felt like the baton was passed. The next milestone was set: 27 March – Oral Viva.
As I marked the date on my calendar, it felt distant, yet ever-looming like a mountain on the horizon.
Then came 24 March.
An email landed in my inbox, a long, detailed critique from the external examiner, a professor from NUS. I froze. My heart raced as I read through the words. It felt like my entire thesis was being taken apart, examined under a microscope. I thought: This could be bad. What if I can’t defend this? What if I unravel during the oral defense?
But panic eventually gave way to action. I tweaked my slides, reshaped my talking points, and focused intently on addressing the feedback, plugging gaps, reframing arguments, strengthening my theoretical scaffolding. It was a race against time, but I didn’t want to show up unprepared.

And today, 27 March, the curtain lifted.
I delivered my oral presentation. I spoke with clarity, with calm, with something resembling quiet courage.
To my utter surprise, the external examiner, yes, the same professor who had sent that intense email, kept praising me. He said I had done a very good job. That I had addressed his concerns. That he understood my work.
Another professor gently noted: You actually have ideas, strong ones, it’s just that they’re all over the place. You need to weave them better, give them clearer shape. And my professor, with his authority, told me that I had passed with revisions and was given three months to tidy up, polish, and refine.
The entire presentation and Q&A wrapped up in just about an hour. And that was that.
But here’s the part I didn’t expect:
As I sat alone afterwards, processing the moment…
I didn’t feel proud.
No rush of joy, no celebratory tears.
No triumphant soundtrack playing in the background.
Just… stillness.
I wondered: Is something wrong with me?
Why is it that after such a huge milestone, a master’s thesis, a completed viva, I feel more numb than anything?
But maybe, just maybe, this is part of the journey too.
Maybe pride doesn’t always roar.
Maybe, sometimes, it whispers.
Maybe it lives in the quiet act of showing up after fear.
In rewriting slides at the eleventh hour.
In holding your ground during tough questions.
In receiving critique and turning it into growth.
This isn’t the end. It’s a turning point.
Three more months to refine.
Three more months to strengthen the spine of my thesis.
Three more months to allow this quiet, uncelebrated strength to evolve into something bolder.
So here I am.
Not proud in the way I expected.
But steady. Grateful. And still moving forward.



At the start of the project, everything may seem fresh and exciting. As I get going, I am intimated by the challenges throughout the process. At all times, I hold myself responsible and try to be aware of my own effort.