How to romanticise your life when you’ve got the flu and two deadlines: Glasgow edition

You know that point in semester where your immune system taps out, your brain melts, and your laptop fan sounds like it’s begging for mercy? Congratulations — you’ve reached peak Glasgow Uni burnout season. You’re feverish, sniffling, and two deadlines deep in denial, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make it aesthetic.

With a little delusion, a few cold meds, and the kind of misplaced confidence that only comes from caffeine and fever, you too can make your cold look like the main character era you definitely didn’t ask for. Because if you’re going to cry into your tissues, you might as well do it with style.

1. Pretend your Lemsip is a £5 latte

Yes, it tastes like boiled paracetamol, lemon-flavoured radiator water, and sadness, but if you pour it into a cute mug and hold it with two hands by a rain-streaked window, you’re basically starring in your own moody indie film. The soundtrack? That same lo-fi playlist you’ve been using to ignore your tutorial readings since Week 2.

Add a candle (even though you can’t smell it), a blanket scarf, some half-dead fair lights, and a pile of open books you’ll likely never touch. Caption it “healing era ☁️” for maximum denial. It’s not delusion, it’s seasonal melancholy chic.

2. Rebrand your bed as a personality

Forget the library. Forget JMS. Your bed is the campus now . It’s where you eat, cry, scroll, and occasionally type one meaningful sentence before passing out— a multifunctional zone for eating, crying, scrolling, and occasionally typing one meaningful sentence before passing out mid-keystroke.

Most Read

Exposed: The MAFS UK 2025 cast who already have new partners since the show

We know loads more juicy details about the holiday Julia-Ruth and Joe had together after MAFS

The Selling Sunset cast members who have actually sold the most and least houses

3. Romanticise your academic downfall

Open your essay. Stare at it. Cry a little. Google “how to write an introduction” like you haven’t been doing this since secondary school. Then, in a burst of delusion, type one sentence — something like “language is a social construct” — and call it deep before immediately opening TikTok or Deliveroo.

Turns your laptop brightness down to 10 per cent so your reflection looks like a tragic, mysterious ghost of academic despair. You’re not procrastinating — you’re cultivating ambience. Whisper “I am the next Barthes” while submitting at 11:59pm for extra gravitas.

4. Pretend your sad snacks are curated

That half-eaten banana and multipack of Wotsits? No, no

— that’s a sick day charcuterie board. You’re fuelling your creative process. Pour your Lucozade into a wine glass and pretend it’s a mimosa from Paesano brunch.

Mood: “hungover influencer in recovery,” but make it vitamin C deficiency.

5. Build your sick day outfit like you’re a Tumblr muse

Layers. Socks. Hoodie. Flannel on top of hoodie. You look like a laundry pile with trust issues, but it’s giving “post-ironic grunge.” Add a big blanket and a thousand-yard stare, and you’re practically in a Pinterest moodboard titled “Sad student aesthetic (UK rain version).” You now resemble a pile of laundry with Wi-Fi access.

Top it off with your flatmate’s scarf, greasy hair, and that glassy-eyed look of someone who’s seen the ninth circle of Turnitin. Sniffle dramatically and mutter, “It’s just my process.”

6. Curate your crisis for Instagram

Post a photo of your tea mug, your laptop, and a blurry view of the rain with the caption “grinding through it ☕️💻💔”. Everyone will assume you’re thriving, not horizontal under five blankets, running on ibuprofen, feverish, and feral.

Don’t forget to repost a random motivational quote from Pinterest at 2:47am. Nothing says “I’m holding it together” like “romanticise the little things <3” while mainlining cough syrup. It’s the illusion of stability that counts.

7. Gaslight yourself into thinking this is self-care

@capucineengel

The only thing keeping me sane I swear 😮‍💨 #studytok #uni #unistudentlife #studentlife #unistruggles #uniburnout #relatable #fyp #fypシ

♬ Rory Gilmore study motivation – studytok ౨ৎ

You’re not unwell, you’re detoxing. The sweating? That’s your body releasing negativity. The three-day nap? Restorative spiritual reset. The fact you haven’t eaten anything green since Monday? Minimalism.

If you label anything a “soft era,” and suddenly it’s not burnout, it’s branding. You’re not crumbling under pressure — you’re “embracing stillness.”

8. Make delusions your wellness plan

@help_me.study

I swear it happens every single semester🥲 #studywithme #studying #midtermseason #midtermexams #sick #studytok #fypシ

♬ původní zvuk – tereza.debnarova

Tell your group chat it’s “just a cold” even though your voice sounds like gravel. Convince yourself that submitting one assignment late is “protecting your peace.” Text “so true bestie” to everything your seminar group says while you hallucinate from the fever.

You are a wellness influencer now. Just one with an empty fridge and four overdue readings.

9. Treat the Boyd Orr stairs like your redemption arc

@maydeathneverstopyou

the stairs will be the death of me 😭😭 #cityofglasgowcollege #newtocogc #glasgow #scotland #maydeathneverstopyou

♬ original sound – AZIZA | Italy

Once you’re semi-alive again, drag your weak, sniffling body up the Boyd Orr stairs. Each step is a trial. Each landing is a spiritual awakening. You’ll cough, wheeze, and nearly pass out, but by the time you reach the top, you’ll feel like you’ve conquered something far greater than academia: your own mortality.

Reward yourself with another nap. You’ve earned it, legend.

10. Manifest your recovery arc (badly)

Once your fever breaks and you’ve stopped sounding like you smoke Marlboros for breakfast, convince yourself this is your rebirth era. Make a to-do list called “new me” and immediately ignore it. Go for one walk to Kelvinbridge, breathe in that damp Glasgow air, and decide you’re basically cured.

Then get back to your flat, realise you’re still dying, and crawl into bed with your laptop on your chest like a life support machine. Post a story captioned “fresh start ☀️” while eating cold pasta straight from the Tupperware. You’re not back to normal — you’re just narrating your downfall with confidence.