My sin is pride. But pride is not entirely a vice. Pride is what got me through my senior year; pride saw me get into a postgraduate program in one of the UK’s top universities; pride sees me live a mostly-normal life despite having an incurable chronic disease; pride is how I’ve written 30,000 words for NaNoWriMo and still be a full day ahead. But pride also means that I could not tell my supervisor no when he kept piling on work that he wants me to do in the next three weeks—because he did not know that I was already doing extra work to prepare for a different PhD topic than the one I had told him months ago, resulting, in essence, in a scenario in which I would be doing the work for two PhDs at once, as well as writing a novel and trying to have a life.
But pride will also, eventually, see me push back and produce the PhD topic that I want to do. I may not have as forceful personality as he does, but I am downright stubborn, and my stubbornness knows patience.
And since I have finished my daily word count by 9 PM, I will, for the second time in November, be going to bed before midnight.