The Unspoken

I remember that kind of question always repeated from my family about a year ago. I just answered it with a very pretty smile and said, “soon, insyaaAllah.” Every time I talked with my parents at phone, that question always be the main topic of our conversation. I felt oppressed at that time. They just didn’t know how hard I tried to make the best result. They didn’t know how depressed it was to found data for my research. They didn’t know how many times I build a model to obtain the best one. They didn’t know I was studied a lot until late night to understand the method. They didn’t know I read so many articles until my head spinning around. They didn’t know how exhausted it was to stare at the laptop monitor for hours. They didn’t know how tired it was to type so many pages with full of math equation. They didn’t know I slept for only two hours and woke up to continue reading and typing or make a revision. Paper with symbols, numbers, equations and random graffiti scattered aro...