Getting a PhD is a period of delayed decision-making that is often romanticized.

This Spring Festival, I met up with a few old classmates. Some are pursuing a PhD, while others are already working. We had a lively chat, but as soon as the topic turned to plans after graduation, the atmosphere instantly grew quiet.
Many people pursue a PhD not because they are certain about an academic career, but simply because they don’t want to face reality immediately, they want to wait a little longer, delay a bit more. A PhD is more like a buffer zone, temporarily helping you avoid the pressure of life choices.
But time has a cost. After finishing the PhD, you're nearly thirty—the most valuable years—and all you get is a title. You might think you’re gaining experience, but in reality, you might just be avoiding.
During the PhD, life becomes highly fragmented, gradually disconnecting from the real world. Only after leaving campus do you realize that the world doesn’t care about papers or right and wrong; it only cares about value. The confidence and systems you built in the past often don’t apply in reality.
The PhD system, on a macro level, is a talent redistribution. From an individual perspective, it’s a period of silently accepted delayed decision-making.
Truly clear-minded people start by understanding three things from the beginning:
1. Can I handle the worst possible outcome of this path?
2. How is my ability valued outside the system?
3. If I drop out halfway, what do I rely on to stand firm?
Persistence with no backup plan is obsession; strategic investment requires planning.
A PhD is neither a safe harbor nor a destination. You don’t need to force yourself to maintain an image; you just need to be responsible for your own life.
Think clearly: Are you using a PhD to amplify your future, or just to postpone the present?
Recognizing this is the only way to truly respect the time you’ve invested.