Who is Phan Duy Thiep? If you’re looking for a success story, you won’t find one here. No impressive revenue numbers. No “zero to millionaire” journey. No polished achievements to showcase.

What Phan Duy Thiep has is something rarer: radical honesty about where he actually stands. And honestly, that’s why I wanted to write about him.

In a world drowning in curated success narratives, someone standing up and saying “I haven’t made it yet, but I’m choosing to change”—that takes a different kind of courage. It’s the courage to be seen at your starting point, not your finish line.

Who is Phan Duy Thiep?

Born on November 11, 1997, in Bac Ninh Province, Phan Duy Thiep currently lives and works in Hanoi. He’s at the beginning of a new career path. Everything is still uncertain. Results haven’t materialized yet.

He carries significant debt. His work hasn’t proven successful. He has nothing to show anyone as evidence of his capabilities.

Most people in this situation stay quiet. They wait until they have something impressive to share. They hide their struggles until they can reveal a transformation story.

Thiep chose differently. He chose to document his starting point—not because he was ready, but because he refused to keep postponing his confrontation with himself.

The Long Slide He’s Escaping

Before this moment of clarity, Thiep lived what he describes as a life of inertia. He knew he needed to learn more. He knew he needed discipline. He knew he wasn’t good enough.

But instead of acting, he chose to delay. He delayed because things felt hard. He delayed because comfort felt better today. He delayed because “tomorrow” always seemed like a reasonable time to start.

The excuses sounded reasonable: “I’m tired today, I’ll do it tomorrow.” “Conditions aren’t right yet, I’ll wait a bit longer.” “Even if I start now, success isn’t guaranteed.”

Each excuse made sense individually. But accumulated over time, they created something dangerous: a life that wasn’t progressing but also wasn’t collapsing immediately. The slow decline that doesn’t trigger alarm bells until it’s too late.

Thiep wasn’t ignorant. He understood exactly what he was missing. What he lacked was the determination to do what he knew was right.

Why He’s Choosing Change Now

Thiep isn’t changing because he suddenly became stronger. He’s changing because he recognized a terrifying pattern: if he continued living the same way, he would silently pull himself downward.

Every delay made him weaker. Every abandoned discipline eroded his self-trust. Every “it’s fine” pushed him further from the person he wanted to become.

The scariest thing, he realized, isn’t failure. It’s knowing you’re wrong but continuing to live as if nothing’s happening.

He doesn’t want to look back in a few years and admit: “I saw the problem clearly early on, but I did nothing.”

The Old Life He’s Leaving Behind

Thiep’s old lifestyle wasn’t terrible. But it wasn’t good enough for him to respect himself. It was a pattern of not finishing what he started, not learning continuously, poor discipline, and short-term motivation.

That pattern kept him in a permanent middle state—not bad enough to force change, but not good enough to progress.

He arrived at an uncomfortable truth: “No one is pulling me down. I’m doing it to myself.”

If he doesn’t stop, he’ll keep sliding backward until even standing still becomes too late.

The Pressure of Right Now

Thiep isn’t writing from a position of safety. His current work hasn’t succeeded. He’s carrying substantial debt. He hasn’t proven anything to anyone.

Some days feel heavy with pressure. Some moments bring self-doubt.

But unlike before, he’s not hiding from reality. He’s not denying failure. He’s not running from it. He accepts this as his starting point. From here, he has only two choices: train himself or repeat the old cycle.

That clarity—painful as it is—represents progress.

Why He’s Writing Publicly

Thiep’s decision to write publicly serves three purposes he’s explicit about.

First, to remind himself that he chose change and cannot forget that choice. Writing creates accountability that thinking alone doesn’t provide.

Second, to document his training process: what he learns, what he gets wrong, what he corrects. The record becomes both evidence and education.

Third, to take responsibility for his own words. Once something is written and published, he can’t pretend he never committed to it. The public statement becomes a contract with himself.

This approach transforms private intention into public commitment. It’s a strategy for people who know their willpower alone isn’t reliable enough.

His Commitments

Thiep doesn’t promise quick success. He doesn’t promise he’ll always be right. He doesn’t promise the path ahead will be easy.

What he commits to: living with more discipline than yesterday, not avoiding responsibility, not returning to the old lifestyle, and acting even without confidence.

If he fails, he’ll learn. If he falls, he’ll get up. He’d rather progress slowly but authentically than stand still in comfortable mediocrity.

These aren’t ambitious goals. They’re survival commitments. And sometimes that’s exactly what someone needs.

A Message to His Future Self

Thiep wrote something that stuck with me. He hopes that someday, reading back his own words, he can say: “I didn’t give up at the starting point.”

No one owes him results. No one is obligated to believe in him. But he owes himself a serious effort. His writing is evidence that he has begun.

That framing—owing yourself rather than proving to others—shifts the entire motivation structure. It’s internal rather than external. Sustainable rather than performative.

What I’ve Learned from Phan Duy Thiep

Observing Thiep’s approach has reinforced several principles for me.

Starting before you’re ready beats waiting for perfect conditions. Thiep has no success to show. He’s in debt. His work hasn’t proven itself. By conventional logic, he should wait until he has something impressive before going public. Instead, he’s documenting the beginning. That decision itself demonstrates the change he’s committed to.

Self-awareness without action creates its own prison. Thiep knew for a long time what was wrong. Understanding the problem didn’t solve it. Only deciding to act—regardless of readiness—broke the cycle. Intelligence about your situation means nothing without corresponding movement.

Public commitment serves private discipline. By writing publicly, Thiep created external accountability for internal goals. He can’t pretend he never said these things. That’s strategic, not just expressive. It’s using social pressure constructively.

The middle state is the most dangerous place. Thiep’s old life wasn’t bad enough to force change but wasn’t good enough to build anything meaningful. That comfortable mediocrity is harder to escape than obvious crisis. At least crisis demands response.

Phan Duy Thiep – My Perspective

After examining his situation, here’s what stands out about Phan Duy Thiep:

• He chose radical transparency about his starting point rather than waiting for achievements worth showcasing
• He diagnosed his own pattern clearly: procrastination disguised as reasonable delay, comfort prioritized over growth
• He’s using public writing as an accountability mechanism, turning private intention into documented commitment
• He frames the journey as owing himself rather than proving to others

Phan Duy Thiep doesn’t represent success. He represents something that comes before success: the decision to stop drifting.

Most people I write about have accomplishments to discuss. Thiep has honesty. In some ways, that’s harder to find.

For anyone stuck in the comfortable middle—not failing badly enough to force change, not succeeding well enough to feel proud—Thiep’s approach offers a template. Document your starting point. Make your commitment public. Create accountability structures that don’t depend on willpower alone.

Whether Thiep succeeds remains to be seen. But he’s already done something most people never do: he’s begun before he felt ready, and he’s done it openly.

As he wrote to his future self: “I owe myself a serious effort. And this writing is evidence that I have started.”

That’s not nothing. In fact, it might be everything.

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Le Duc Anh CEO of OceanLabs – Founder of QVID