Deploy the madness

I Time-Traveled into My Own GitHub Repo and Got Trapped in a Loop of Bugs

Crazyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!

It all started at 2:13 a.m.

I was thoughtfully spiralling in a project I hadn’t touched in months — a half-built app I proudly named BugBeater8, which ironically had no bug-beating capabilities. My eyes were half-closed, my coffee was cold, and the function handleMaybeDataIDK() was mocking me like that long-distance boyfriend I never actually met — always confusing, never online, and probably just a placeholder.

And then it happened.

I hit Ctrl + S, the screen flickered, my laptop hummed like it was summoning a demon, and suddenly — darkness.

📦 Welcome to the Repo-Verse

I opened my eyes to find myself standing… inside my code. Literally……..

The air was filled with floating syntax. Variables whizzed past my head like flies. In the distance, I could see a massive error message pulsing in red like an angry volcano:
"ReferenceError: sanity is not defined."

I turned around and saw my past self — the version who first wrote this code — chilling in midnight storm, humming a Bollywood breakup song while casually typing: let maybeThing = doThing(thing) || dontThing(thing);.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I yelled.

He smirked like he just ghosted a situationship.
“I don’t know yaar... but vibes se kaam chal jaata hai.”

🐛 The First Monster: Infinite Loop

As I walked deeper into the repo, the ground beneath me started repeating. I walked forward — the same variable appeared again. Walked again — same log message:
"Still inside the loop..."

I was in the Infinite Loop.

I screamed. Out of nowhere, a massive bug slithered toward me — it had spaghetti-code legs, a spinning head, and was mumbling like it hadn’t slept in years:

This thing wasn’t just looping — it was vibing in circles.

Panic? Nah. I went full dramatic.

I reached behind and pulled out the legendary Debugger Chappal (yes, it’s magical — fight me). With one mighty slap, I screamed: if (escape === true) break;

The bug squealed like a broken Bluetooth speaker and vanished into a trail of deprecated logs.

💬 The Comment That Judged Me

Further down the path, I found a dusty old section labeled // TODO: fix this later. It was glowing — not with hope, but shame.

I reached out to touch it, and it whispered:

"You said you'd fix me in 2022..."

A chill ran down my spine. Guilt, pure and raw. The kind only programmers know when they see their old, lazy comments.

I nodded silently. “I’ll fix it today.”

The comment softened into:
// finally_fixed_this_like_i_promised.js

Progress….`````````

👹 The Boss Function: handleEverything()

Then came the boss level — a function so big it had no scroll bar.

function handleEverything()

It tried to do everything. Fetch APIs, sort arrays, send emails, make coffee, and maybe solve world peace. I peeked inside and immediately got a headache.

It spoke to me:

"You made me. You feared splitting me into smaller functions. Now… suffer."

It threw exceptions at me like ninja stars.

I ducked, dove, and screamed: “MODULARITYYYY!”

With a mighty slash, I refactored it into smaller, manageable functions:
handleLogin(), handleData(), handleTherapySession().

The monster let out a Wilhelm scream and exploded into rainbow-colored console logs.
I stood there — wind in my hair, VS Code theme glowing — victorious.

🧼 Escaping the Repo

At the end of the codebase, I found a shiny button labeled:
"Run Tests"

I hesitated.

Running tests could destroy me. What if I failed?

But I clicked it anyway.

Green checkmarks. All passed.

The world began to collapse around me. I was free.

🛌 Back to Reality

I woke up on my keyboard, face-first, drooling slightly.

I checked the clock: 2:14 a.m.
Only a minute had passed.

But something had changed. I opened the code — it was cleaner. The bugs were gone. My comments were... kind. There was even documentation.

Had I really fixed it?

Or had I just gone mad?

Either way, my commit message read:

git commit -m "Fixed bugs. Also fought demons."

🤯 Final Thoughts

Debugging often feels like time travel. You revisit your own chaotic thoughts, get trapped in mistakes, and argue with your past self. Sometimes, you fight monsters. Sometimes, you become one.

But every time you refactor, comment kindly, and break a loop — you're building a version of yourself that’s a little bit better than before.

So go ahead.
Deploy the madness.