Two days

Two days.

That’s really where I’m at mentally right now. Two more days until the FE exam, and honestly, I’m nervous as hell. I’ve worked hard for this. I’ve sacrificed sleep for this. I’ve sacrificed peace for this. And now that the exam is almost here, reality is finally settling in. It’s no longer “someday.” It’s no longer “next month.” It’s here now. Right in front of me. And I think that’s what makes this feel so heavy. There’s a difference between preparing for something in theory and standing directly in front of the moment itself. That pressure changes everything.

What’s shocking to me is how exhausted my body feels. I’ve genuinely lost so much rest over the last year. And not just because of studying either. Even during times that were supposed to be relaxing, like vacations, I still wasn’t really resting. I remember traveling to Atlanta and Houston, and Houston was probably the worst for me because I barely slept at all. The snoring was unbelievably loud every single night. It got to the point where I almost felt trapped inside my own exhaustion. That’s the scary thing about sleep deprivation—it doesn’t just make you tired. It changes your emotions. It changes your focus. It changes your confidence. You begin doubting yourself more. You become mentally fragile without even realizing it.

And now here I am again, losing rest right before one of the most important exams of my life.

What scares me is that this isn’t even something melatonin can fully fix anymore. Medication can only do so much. Sometimes your nervous system just reaches a point where it’s overloaded. I think that’s where I’ve been lately—mentally overloaded. Too many thoughts. Too much pressure. Too many expectations sitting on my shoulders all at once.

But at the same time, I’m beginning to understand something important about this phase of life.

Your twenties are not supposed to feel completely comfortable.

Your twenties are building years.

That’s the reality nobody fully explains to you growing up. People romanticize youth so much that they forget your twenties are often survival years. Sacrifice years. Foundation years. These are the years where you’re trying to build the structure that the rest of your life will stand on. That means there will be exhaustion. There will be loneliness. There will be uncertainty. There will be periods where everybody else looks like they’re having fun while you’re sitting at a desk trying to build a future for yourself.

And honestly? I’ve accepted that.

I’ve accepted that my twenties may not be the most socially exciting years of my life. I’m probably going to lose friendships. I probably already have. Some people who know me now might completely disappear from my life after college. That’s just reality. People move on fast nowadays. People cut people off with almost no remorse anymore. One disagreement. One misunderstanding. One period of distance. One life transition. And suddenly somebody who used to talk to you every day becomes a stranger.

That realization used to hurt me deeply.

Now? I’m slowly becoming numb to it.

Because I’m realizing something else: not everybody is meant to stay for every phase of your life.

Some people are only there temporarily. Some people are there while things are convenient. Some people are there while environments force interaction, like school or work. And once life changes, the connection fades naturally.

That’s painful to accept, but it’s adulthood.

And honestly, I’ve had to mentally prepare myself for the possibility that there may be periods of my life where I’m extremely alone. Maybe even for years. Maybe I won’t have a partner for a long time. Maybe I won’t have close friends around consistently. Maybe there will be long stretches where it’s just me, my goals, my work, and my future.

And I think I’m finally okay with that.

Not because I hate people. Not because I don’t want love or companionship. But because I understand what I’m trying to build requires focus.

Right now, my priorities are different.

I want to graduate. I want to pass this FE exam. I want to become licensed. I want to stabilize my future financially, mentally, and professionally. I want to become somebody I can actually depend on long-term.

That’s the mission right now.

Everything else comes second.

And honestly, when I look ahead at my life, I think each decade has a different purpose for me mentally.

My twenties? Building years. Sacrifice years. Foundation years.

My thirties? That’s when I can expand more creatively. That’s when I want to write books, join organizations, build larger projects, maybe contribute more publicly to the world around me. That’s when I want to grow into a more complete version of myself intellectually and creatively.

And my forties? Hopefully stability. Hopefully peace. Hopefully a life where all this work starts paying off emotionally and financially.

Because right now, life feels unstable.

Everything still feels uncertain.

But I think that uncertainty is part of the construction process.

Nobody sees the chaos while the foundation is being built. They only see the final structure later.

That’s why I keep going even while I’m exhausted.

That’s why I keep studying even while I’m nervous.

That’s why I keep sacrificing comfort even while my body is tired.

Because deep down, I still believe there’s a future version of me that will be grateful I didn’t quit during this stage of life.

And honestly? Maybe the FE exam is bigger than just an exam to me.

Maybe it represents proof that I survived this period of my life.

The sleepless nights. The anxiety. The pressure. The loneliness. The self-doubt. The exhaustion. The fear of failure.

All of it.

Maybe passing isn’t just about engineering. Maybe it’s about proving to myself that I can endure difficult seasons without completely collapsing.

And even if I’m nervous right now, even if my confidence feels shaky right now, I still know one thing:

I showed up.

I studied. I sacrificed. I tried.

And sometimes, especially in your twenties, trying to build a life while exhausted is already a form of courage people don’t talk about enough.