Sometimes you just get to that point, you know? Where you’ve been doing the thing for so long, and everyone around you is like, "Oh, that’s SO exciting, what an ACHIEVEMENT," and you’re just… empty. Like a soda can after you’ve drank all the good stuff and it’s just fizz and a little bit sticky on the inside. That was me today. You spend, what, five years of your life, well actually it feels like more, more like ten years if you count all the thinking about it and getting the recommendations and feeling like you HAD to do something DIFFERENT than what everyone else here does, but anyway, you spend all that time and effort on this one HUGE thing, this thesis, and you get to the defense, and it’s just… another Tuesday. But a Tuesday where your entire future, or at least the immediate next couple years, is getting poked at by people who are supposed to be smart but honestly sometimes you wonder if they just LIKE hearing themselves talk. And you’re just there, standing up, trying to look composed, and answer all the questions, and they’re asking about your methodology and your conclusions and the IMPLICATIONS of your findings, and your hands are just CLENCHED behind your back, trembling so hard you feel like you’re going to shake apart, but you can’t let them see that, right? You can’t let them see you’re falling apart, because then what’s the point? And you answer them, calmly, you sound so professional, even though inside your brain is just screaming for it to BE OVER, and you can feel the sweat trickling down your back, and you just want to go home and maybe just sit in the truck for a bit or just look at the stars, but you keep going because you’re almost done. You're so close to being done with this one thing that felt like the ONLY way out of this town, this place where everyone knows your business and your mama calls you every day, and you keep telling yourself this is worth it, this is the BIG THING. But then they dismiss you, and you wait, and they call you back in, and they say "Congratulations, Doctor," and it’s like… a sound in the distance. Like a cowbell from way over in Miller’s pasture. It’s there, you hear it, but it doesn’t really mean anything to you. And you smile, and you shake their hands, and you thank them, and you go out and your friends are all cheering and you just want to curl up somewhere dark and quiet. Because you know, deep down, that this big, important, life-changing thing… it hasn't really changed anything at all. You’re still you. Still living out here, still wondering what’s next, but now with a piece of paper that says you’re smart, and really, what does that get you when you’re still just trying to figure out how to pay for new tires on the truck and if you can afford to fix that leaky faucet in the bathroom this month. And you just… exist. And everyone is happy for you, and you just feel like you’re watching yourself from outside again, just like when you were a kid, and you wonder if maybe this whole thing was just a really elaborate way to prove to yourself that nothing ever really changes, no matter how hard you try to MAKE it change. And you just keep smiling, and nodding, and trying to act like it means as much to you as it seems to mean to them, but inside you're just… flat. Like the fizz in that soda can. Just gone. And you just keep asking yourself, now what? Now what are you going to do? But you don't actually have an answer. Not really.