Trần Minh Đức

From haunting fear to confident wings

Four years ago, every night I would carefully write out my plan for the next day. The following morning, I would follow it exactly: read self-help books, sleep early, track every habit. But it never felt like progress. It felt like running away.

My Facebook friends list had barely sixty people, most of them relatives. No one really knew me, and I wasn’t even sure I knew myself. I thought if I stayed busy enough, I wouldn’t have to face the terrifying question: ‘What if I’m not good enough?’

For a year, I was trapped in a cycle of ‘toxic productivity’. I did things not because they mattered, but because I was too afraid of standing still. I had no confidence. I never raised my hand in class, avoided eye contact, and convinced myself I wasn’t the kind of person who could stand out, lead, or inspire anyone. A cruel voice in my head kept whispering: “You’re useless.”

Then one day, a scholarship announcement from the British University Vietnam (BUV) appeared on my Facebook feed. A coincidence, perhaps, but one that changed everything.

Among the ordinary lines of text, the words “Dare to be Lionhearted” struck something deep within me. It wasn’t just a slogan, it was a wake-up call. I started learning about BUV, about how the university put students at the center, how its classrooms encouraged debate instead of rote memorization, and how it created space for people to speak their truths.

For the first time, I could picture the kind of learning environment I had always dreamed of: a place where each person was heard, allowed to try, and even allowed to fail; where success was measured not by grades but by growth. I could almost see a different version of myself reflected in BUV’s stories and videos: someone confident, proactive, and resilient enough to stand before others and tell his own story.

That was the moment I knew I had to try. Not for a scholarship, but for the chance to belong somewhere that made me believe learning could heal fear and awaken potential.

My hands trembled as I clicked ‘submit’. No big achievements. No leadership titles. No confidence. But for the first time, I had something else: a reason to move forward. And to me, that was everything, like a lost train finally finding its tracks again.

The journey to the BUV scholarship was not easy. To compete, I needed real experience. And that was when I realized: opportunities had always been around me, I just hadn’t noticed.

One day, I gathered all my courage and asked my homeroom teacher if I could try being the MC for an upcoming school event. She looked at me, surprised. Honestly, I was surprised too.

When the event came, I could barely hold the microphone. My legs shook. My voice cracked. Words tangled. I heard whispers and laughter from the audience. At that moment, I wanted to disappear.

But a small voice inside whispered back: “At least you stood up.” And that was enough.

In the restroom afterward, I looked into the mirror and smiled - a genuine smile I hadn’t seen in a long time. I tried again, and again. Each time, the fear shrank a little. My voice grew steadier. My hands stopped trembling. I could look the audience in the eyes. I could tell my story. I no longer felt invisible.

Confidence began to grow quietly within me. From those small experiences, I added new goals to my bucket list. I learned to say yes: yes to projects, yes to public speaking, yes to helping others. I wasn’t always good. I sometimes forgot lines or made awkward jokes. But I kept going.

Two years later, I applied for the BUV Dean’s Scholarship. A few days before the interview, I was supposed to take a mock graduation exam. When BUV’s email arrived, I made a bold decision: I postponed the exam to focus fully on my preparation.

For two or three days straight, I researched the lecturers in my chosen field, searched for common ground, and rehearsed possible interview questions dozens of times. I wasn’t doing it just for the person I was, but for the version of myself years ago who never believed he could.

And effort, when it’s genuine, always finds its reward. Two weeks later, an email arrived: “Congratulations! You have been awarded the BUV Dean’s Scholarship.”

My heart raced. I ran downstairs, shouting to my mom, “Mom! I got the scholarship!” She stared, half laughing, half confused. “Are you drunk?” she asked. I laughed too. In truth, I had never felt more awake in my life. For the first time, I wasn’t pretending anymore.

In my first year, a friend and I started a copywriting service, offering creative content for brands. We polished our proposals carefully, researched each company, and sent out hundreds of freelance applications. Every single one was either rejected or ignored. I also applied for the Canadian government’s SEED scholarship, spending a full week on my essays and study plans, only to fail in the first round.

At that point, I began to wonder if I had any real value at all.

Then one night, I stumbled upon my old high school blog - simple posts about writing essays and study tips. I felt the same calm joy I once had, when I shared not for views or likes, but for the love of helping others.

That night became my restart button. From that spark, ‘Vscholar’ was born. It is a student-led project helping high schoolers apply for scholarships. At first, I doubted myself again. We struggled to find students. We even offered free sessions, yet few signed up. After countless meetings, we were exhausted from thinking too much and seeing too little progress.

But slowly, things began to change. We connected with students applying to BUV and other international universities in Vietnam, even for government scholarships in Hungary. At 1 a.m., I was still awake, fixing CVs and rewriting essays line by line. When our students messaged to say they had been accepted, I felt something I’d never felt before, that my effort had genuinely helped change someone’s future.

Looking back, I know that without BUV, I would never have had the courage to begin. Here, failure isn’t something to hide, it’s part of learning. Mistakes aren’t the end, they’re the process. BUV taught me ‘self-reflection’, how to turn ideas into action, and most importantly, how to stand back up without labeling myself a failure.

By 2025, I had taken another step: becoming a GM Vietnam Ambassador, representing university students nationwide at one of Vietnam’s largest blockchain events. I wrote five articles on technology and personal growth that reached thousands of young readers and was named among the top 15 ambassadors. From someone who once failed silently, I had become a national representative - a full-circle journey.

As one of the top 10 ambassadors, I was invited to a private dinner with Aptos executives and global partners at the Marriott Hanoi. Surrounded by business leaders, KOLs, and developers, I realized how vast the world truly is, and how limitless its opportunities can be.

My journey was not built on shining achievements, but on failures, quiet resilience, and lessons forged in the fires of perseverance.