Capstone Project

This week has been a relentless, suffocating gauntlet, and frankly, I am beyond the point of "tired." There is a specific kind of exhaustion that settles into your bones when your brain is forced to switch between the high-stakes pressure of a comprehensive exam and the mechanical desperation of a failing capstone project.

Monday and Tuesday were supposed to be about TCEP, about proving four years of engineering knowledge, but how can you focus on formulas when your mind is occupied by the looming shadow of an unfinished prototype? I walked into those exams running on fumes because we were already pulling shifts to get the project ready. It wasn't a lack of discipline; it was a lack of hours in the day.

Then came the "gathering" phase—the part where we were supposed to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Instead, we hit a wall of scheduling conflicts. And just when we thought we could push through the logistics, the universe decided to break the hardware. Watching the motors give up felt like watching my own resolve snap. It wasn’t just a mechanical failure; it was the physical manifestation of our burnout.

Now, the Friday defense—the finish line we were sprinting toward—has vanished.

We spent hours scouring every local store for a replacement motor, coming up empty-handed every single time. We knew that ordering online was a death sentence for our timeline; we simply wouldn't make it. In a final, desperate act of engineering solidarity, we reached out to every friend and technician we knew and threw a Hail Mary post onto social media.

And somehow, the universe listened.

We actually did it—we found a replacement motor when everything seemed lost, and we dragged that demo across the finish line. But the "win" feels heavy. The adrenaline from that "nick of time" victory is the only thing keeping me upright.

Now, instead of basking in the relief of a successful demonstration, I am buried alive in the manuscript. I’m staring at the methodology, trying to bridge the gap between what we planned and the chaotic reality of how we actually made it work, all while my eyes refuse to stay in focus. The holes in the results and discussion are finally being filled with actual data, but it’s a race against my own exhaustion.

My body is screaming for sleep. It’s not just a headache anymore; it’s a full-system compromise. And the worst part isn't even my own fatigue—it’s looking at my groupmates and seeing them shatter in real-time. We are all just broken pieces trying to build a working machine.

I am so incredibly done. I want the degree, I want the project to work, and I want to be proud of what we built, but right now? I just want to exist in a space where nothing is vibrating, nothing needs troubleshooting, and no one is waiting for a manuscript update. I want to finish this, not out of passion anymore, but for the sake of survival.