Ah, the beauty of finally getting to pass your proposal.
“Finally, it’s done.”
You hold your 62-page paper, tucked inside a green, sliding folder. You feel relieved. The weight on your shoulders slowly lifting itself away. It feels so fucking good to be done.
You leave it in the office to be checked. You’re 110% confident that it would be approved. You remember spending almost 5 hours on Google every single day for the past 6 weeks making sure you get the facts right. Finding the right research to back up your claims. Making sure you create the right analysis.
On top of those hours, you spent hundreds more on writing. Oh, the beauty of writing. When you did it, it always felt wrong at first. But that’s okay. For every hour you spent on crafting the initial draft, you spent 2 hours on editing. Proofreading. Making sure it was right. Oh God, how could that beauty of a paper fail.
You get home. For the first time in 6 weeks, you get to eat a proper dinner. You get to lie down and enjoy the cold, soft touch of your bed. You finally get sleep. Sleeping feels so fucking good when you haven’t had any in weeks.
You start the next day right. No stress, no worries. No more, “Did I remember to print the pages for today?”. You laugh at yourself. You were done. Why were you worrying? You spent an insane amount of time on that paper. It was basically part of who you were, right? It was 371 hours of your lifetime, condensed into 62 pages. That was you.
You get to the office. The office looked 10x more beautiful today. Maybe because you were finally done with that one proposal. Whew.
But when you approach your table, you see something on the floor. Something green. You take a closer look, and you see something on your table too. It was messy, folded up, and filled with red ink.
Do you remember what it felt like when it happened to you?
Set up shop in the biggest local food bazaar that happens once a year, but no one buys anything from you.
Pitch a sponsorship deal with a big company you’ve been excited to approach, but they never reply to your first message.
Defend the final piece of your academic paper, but you are rejected and told to do it again.
Life will constantly find ways to reject us. It’s a part of what makes it beautiful, actually. It’s never always the brighter side. Sometimes, or even most of the time, it will let you down.
The key is not to stop.
You were born to create. You exist to build. You already do! Even the smallest actions: cooking egg, writing an assignment, and even talking to a friend, it’s all an act of creation. Turning nothing into something of value.
And when someone tells you what you created is a piece of shit? Fucked up? You did not fail. Your work did. Your product. Your project. The idea that you spent over 50 hours on. That was what failed. Not you.
You have to make that shift in mindset. Why? Because if you think the problem is you, you can’t get back up. You can’t fight the good fight. You can’t take the feedback, work on it, and create a new proposal from rejection with all the pride in the world.
If you can’t be there for yourself, who will?
Do this the next time you’re rejected. Take it. Take the comments. Take the red marks. Take the crumpled, folded, 62-page proposal you worked on for 371 hours. Write it all over again. Build it from the ground up. Let the world know you’re not going anywhere.
Your idea fucked up. Not you. Show them you can make it better.