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The night the results came out, you didn’t tell anyone.
Opened the score-checking website, saw the number, exited, locked the screen.
Sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly for ten minutes.
This was the third time.
Your mom sent a WeChat message: “How did it go?”
You replied: “Okay, just waiting for the interview cutoff score.”
You know the cutoff score won’t drop low enough to meet yours. But you don’t want to say that out loud just yet.
The first time you didn’t pass, you said: I didn’t prepare enough. Reasonable.
The second time you didn’t pass, you said: The questions were exceptionally hard that year. Justifiable.
The third time, you stop looking for reasons.
You only know one thing—“I’ve come this far, I can’t stop now.”
“I’ve come this far”—this phrase itself is the most covert trick your brain plays on you.
Behavioral economics calls it the “Sunk Cost Fallacy.” You have already invested two years of time, tens of thousands in prep courses, and countless late nights of silent studying. These costs have piled up into a wall in your mind.
But this wall is not supporting you. It is blocking your retreat.
You keep taking the exam not because you are closer to your goal—frankly, you aren’t sure that you are.
It is because if you stop now, everything that came before will have been “wasted.”
You think you are working toward the future. In reality, you are paying off a debt for the person you were three years ago.
These are two entirely different things.
An iron law of economics is: sunk costs are already sunk. Past expenditures should not influence your next decision.
If you are halfway through a meal and realize it tastes terrible, should you finish it? The rational answer is: stop eating; continuing will only bring more suffering. But your brain says: “I already paid for it, it’s a waste not to finish.”
The logic behind a third attempt at the grad school entrance exam and forcing yourself to finish a terrible meal are, fundamentally, the exact same thing.
Kahneman and Tversky conducted a classic experiment.
They gave two groups the same scenario: You spent a thousand dollars on a concert ticket. On the day of the show, you catch a cold, and there is a torrential downpour outside. Do you still go?
Most people said: Yes. Because “the money has already been spent.”
But what if the ticket was a gift from a friend? Most people said: No, health is more important.
The exact same concert, the exact same cold, the exact same downpour. The only difference is whether you “spent the money.”
This is the power of sunk costs—it does not change the facts, but it alters your perception. And your perception is making the decision for you.
You might argue: But my exam prep isn’t just about “sunk costs.” I genuinely want to go to grad school.
Fine. Let’s run a test.
If you had never taken the exam before—without those two years of investment, without those late nights, without that money—would you, right here and now, choose to start preparing for the first time?
If the answer is “yes,” then your persistence is goal-driven. Keep going; there’s no problem.
If the answer is “probably not” or “I’m not sure”—then you need to honestly ask yourself: Is what sustains you today a genuine desire for that goal, or an unwillingness to walk away from what you have already invested?
The difference between persistence and obsession lies entirely in this one question.
This is not about persuading you to give up.
Giving up is not the only option. But “continuing with your eyes closed” isn’t either.
You can set a clear stop-loss limit—for example, “If my third attempt misses the target by more than 20 points, I will pivot.” You can also expand your options—consider part-time master’s programs, applying abroad, or simply taking the learning capacity forged by three exam attempts to go find a good job.
The prerequisite for making these assessments is: you must first step out of the emotional trap of sunk costs.
You have sat on the edge of the bed for ten minutes.
The phone screen dims and lights up again. Your mom’s WeChat message is still hanging there.
You don’t need to make a decision tonight. But you can start by asking yourself that question:
If you could start all over, would you still walk into this study room?
That answer is more important than the score.
【 One Thought 】— Decision-making can be practiced.
