…cry in the library at least once.
CRY IN THE LIBRARY AT LEAST ONCE.
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Let's be honest, it’s a rite of passage. That moment, deep in the stacks, probably past midnight, with a deadline looming and a concept you just couldn't grasp. The hushed atmosphere, the faint tapping of keyboards, and then... a single tear, or maybe a quiet sob, escaping. It wasn't about weakness; it was about the sheer, unyielding pressure. The weight of expectations, not just from professors, but from yourself, from your peers, from the legacy of the institution itself.
You might have tried to hide it, burying your face in a textbook or pretending to be engrossed in your laptop screen. But you weren't alone. We all saw it, or we felt it ourselves. That moment of vulnerability, when the imposter syndrome hit hardest, when you questioned if you truly belonged. Yet, through those tears, something shifted. A resolve hardened. You wiped them away, took a deep breath, and somehow, found the strength to keep going.
Those library tears weren't failures. They were fuel. They were proof of how much you cared, how hard you pushed, how deeply invested you were in your academic journey. They forged a silent bond among us, a shared understanding of the crucible we navigated. So, did you truly experience it all if you didn't, just once, let the academic grind get the better of you in the hallowed halls of knowledge? It’s part of the story, a testament to the growth and resilience that defined our time there.
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