i actually did it today. the defense. finished it about four hours ago and now im just sitting on the floor of my bathroom looking at the tile patterns because if i look at my reflection i think i might actually throw up. everyone keeps texting me congrats or asking where the celebratory drinks are at but they have no idea. they saw the suit and the powerpoint and heard me using words like epistemological framework and ontological shifts like i actually give a damn about any of it when really i was just trying to stay upright. i’ve spent five years of my life for this one hour and all i could think about was not letting my sleeves rustle because the sound would give away the shaking. the worst part was the questions. dr. vance started digging into my third chapter and my heart just dropped through the floor. my hands started doing this thing—this insane, violent tremor that i couldnt stop no matter how hard i tried. i had to lock them together behind my back so tight my knuckles turned white. i was standing there perfectly still, nodding, smiling that stupid academic smile, but behind my spine my fingers were literally vibrating with this weird primal terror. i felt like a glitch in the matrix or something. like if anyone walked behind me theyd see the machinery breaking down and the person inside just screaming. i heard myself talking and it sounded like a recording. i said something about the methodology being robust despite the sample size limitations and i thought WHO IS THIS PERSON? i was sweating through my shirt but my face was like stone. stone and lies. i answered everything. i took their critiques and i incorporated them into my verbal responses with this weird fake grace that i didnt know i had in me. i looked at the clock on the wall and the seconds were moving so slow it felt like the air was turning into syrup. i just kept thinking please don't let them see. please don't let me drop the mask before i get out of this room. the room was so quiet. just the hum of the projector and the sound of vance tapping his pen on his legal pad. i could see the dust motes floating in the light from the window and i felt like i was underwater. everything was slow and heavy and i just kept my hands CLASPED. i squeezed so hard i left bruises on my own wrists. it’s like i had to pin my own body down so it wouldnt run out the door and leave the rest of me there to fail. i could feel my pulse in my fingernails. think about all the nights i stayed in the lab until 3am eating cold ramen and staring at spreadsheets until the numbers stopped making sense. for what. for three old guys to tell me i did a "satisfactory" job while i secretly lose my mind. i forgot how to be a person years ago. i forgot how to have a hobby or a conversation that wasnt about my research. and today i had to perform the "scholar" version of myself while the actual me was crumbling and wanting to hide under the table. i was using these incredibly sophisticated syntactical structures while my brain was just repeating the word HELP over and over like a broken radio. when they told me to step out so they could deliberate i walked into the hallway and i just collapsed against the wall. my hands wouldnt stop. even once i was alone they were just flapping around like birds. i had to sit on my hands to get them to stay still. then they called me back in and said i passed and i had to shake their hands. i was terrified they’d feel the sweat or the twitching but i guess people only see what they expect to see. they saw a doctor. they didnt see the wreckage. dr. harris even told me i looked "remarkably composed" for someone in the hot seat. i almost laughed in his face. now my phone won’t stop buzzing. my cohort wants to go to that bar on 4th street. they think i’m happy. they think this is the best day of my life but honestly i just feel empty. i feel like i left something in that room that i’m never getting back. like the shaking hasn't really stopped even though my hands are still now. it moved inside. it’s in my chest and my head and i don’t know how to turn it off. i’m 28 years old and i have a phd and i can’t even look at a bowl of cereal without feeling like i’m failing a test. i’m supposed to be an expert but i don’t even know how to breathe right anymore. i wonder if it’s always gonna be like this. the hiding. the pretending to be this calm intellectual while my body is literally failing under the pressure of existing. i’m looking at my degree requirements on the portal and it says "completed" but it feels like a lie. i don't feel smarter. i just feel tired. so tired i could sleep for a year and still wake up with my heart racing. maybe i’ll go to the bar and drink until i can't feel my hands anymore. maybe i’ll just stay here on the floor and wait for the room to stop spinning. idfk. i just want to be a person again instead of a set of data points in a suit. the worst part is knowing i’ll do it again tomorrow. i’ll put on the suit and i’ll hide my hands and i’ll pretend i’m not dying.