I Didn’t Write Every Word of My Thesis — and That’s Okay

 

I’m just going to say it: I didn’t write every single word of my thesis.

 

There. It’s out.

 

And you know what? I’m not ashamed. I’m tired. I’m trying my best. And at the end of the day, my thesis still got approved, and I’m still me — just with slightly darker under-eye circles and a questionable caffeine addiction.

 

The Fantasy vs. The Reality

When I first started grad school, I had this beautiful, delusional vision of how my thesis journey would unfold. I imagined a calm workspace, me in cozy socks, typing away inspired thoughts as lo-fi beats played softly in the background. Maybe a cat curled up on my keyboard. You know, cinematic.

 

The actual process? Less cinematic, more chaotic. There were moments where I genuinely forgot what day it was. I rewrote the same paragraph thirteen times because I hated the tone. I spent three days chasing a bug in my data analysis script, only to realize I’d forgotten a semicolon. Classic.

 

Deadlines, Doom, and Desperation

Somewhere around the midpoint of the semester — which felt more like year 73 of the thesis wars — I realized I was in trouble. I was juggling coursework, a part-time TA position, a side project involving neural networks that I was sure was going to make me famous (spoiler: it didn’t), and the crushing weight of my own expectations.

 

That was the point when I found myself having a quiet meltdown somewhere between the third and fourth floor of the campus library. You know the one.

 

So, in a moment of practicality (or maybe panic), I reached out to a custom thesis writing service for help with a particularly gnarly literature review section. Just that part. Just to get me unstuck.

 

Getting Unstuck Isn’t the Same as Giving Up

Here’s the thing I’ve come to accept: getting support doesn’t mean you’ve failed.

 

I still did the research. I still wrestled with the ideas. I still poured my brain into that document for months. But I also allowed someone else to help me shape a section that felt like quicksand — pulling me in every time I tried to climb out.

 

And honestly, that support probably saved me from quitting entirely.

 

People romanticize the suffering part of academia, as if the struggle validates the knowledge. But I think asking for help is way more honest — and way more sustainable — than pretending you can do it all alone.

 

We Don’t Talk About Burnout Enough

Let’s just admit something together: burnout is real, and it’s brutal.

 

There’s this weird culture in computer science (and maybe academia in general) where overworking is a badge of honor. You’ll hear things like, “I haven’t slept in 48 hours!” said with a weird sort of pride, like sleep is optional and deadlines are some kind of Olympics.

 

Meanwhile, I’m just trying to remember the last time I ate something that didn’t come out of a microwave.

 

It’s in that soup of burnout, perfectionism, and pressure that I finally accepted that my thesis didn’t have to be a solo project in suffering. That’s when I stumbled across kingessays.com — a quiet little lifeline when I was drowning in source citations and imposter syndrome.

 

No drama, no academic scandal — just a little help when I needed it most.

 

But Did I Learn Anything?

Honestly? Yeah. More than I expected.

 

First, I learned how important it is to work with your brain instead of against it. Mine was fried. I couldn’t think straight. Handing off a section for professional polish actually let me focus on fixing other areas and, more importantly, gave me space to sleep. (And eat something green.)

 

Second, I learned that letting go of total control is weirdly freeing. I still reviewed, edited, and made the final decisions — but I wasn’t trying to do everything at once. In the end, that choice improved the outcome rather than compromising it.

 

And finally, I realized that the goal isn’t to write every word — it’s to communicate your research clearly and effectively. If getting help makes that possible, then maybe that’s the smartest thing you can do.

 

What Comes Next — and Why I’m Actually at Peace with It

Now that the thesis is done, I’ve moved on to other adventures — trying to finish side projects, prepping for interviews, occasionally remembering to shower. You know, the usual.

 

Sometimes I reread my thesis and can’t remember writing certain paragraphs. What I do recall clearly are the long stretches of time spent wrangling messy datasets, chasing down bugs in my Python code, and walking first-years through the logic of binary search. And yeah, I remember how it felt to keep going — even when giving up seemed a lot easier.

 

So no, I didn’t write every word myself. But I earned that degree in every other way.

 

And if you ever find yourself up at 3:47 a.m., staring at a blank Word document, halfway through a cold coffee, just remember: asking for help doesn’t make you weak — it makes you human.

 

Especially when your cat walks across the keyboard and deletes your last paragraph.