It’s kind of hilarious, in a very “haha… wait” way, what people imagine right before they go. Some folks get all poetic about their final meal or rehearse their last words like they’re auditioning for a season finale. Others? They’re meticulously picking the last song they’ll ever hear or building one more Spotify playlist for the afterlife. Personally, I know exactly what my brain will be doing in those final seven minutes: glitching like a corrupted hard drive while every iconic meme, Vine, or TikTok audio I’ve ever quoted comes sprinting through my consciousness. Not my life flashing before my eyes — just the “road work ahead?” guy and that raccoon dancing in a circle on loop. Honestly, I fear that the “what will play in my last 7 minutes” TikTok trend will be my last seven minutes.
Apparently, I’m not alone. TikTok creators, especially the chronically online girlies, have started curating their own “what will play in my last 7 minutes” edits, treating their hypothetical dramatic endings like a movie trailer nobody asked for but everyone is definitely watching. Think everything from Impractical Jokers chaos and YouTube-era nostalgia (“Nina…Nina…Nina”) to peak The Office moments and Cam-and-Mitch-level Modern Family confessionals.
Ultimately think: chaotic songs that say “I lived, I laughed, I cried, I overshared on the internet.” It’s a little bit morbid and definitely absurd. But it’s peak Gleek and Gen Z humor, and that’s low-key comforting. It makes total sense that if we’re going out, of course, we’re doing it with vibes, a soundtrack, and a few unhinged memes crashing the funeral.
What is the “What Will Play in My Last 7 Minutes” Trend?
The trend is basically TikTok deciding that if life is a movie, then the ending deserves a chef’s kiss soundtrack that is equal parts dramatic, deranged, nostalgic, and “why was that the thing my brain held onto?” Creators are stitching together clips, audios, and micro-memories that they swear would be the last thing running through their heads before the final credits roll. It’s not emotional flashbacks or inspirational quotes; it’s literally a mental slideshow curated by a chaotic algorithm.
Most of these edits feel like your For You Page had a stress dream. We’re talking Glee mashups, Vine references older than the freshman class, “I’m just a baby!!”, and that one TikTok audio that mashes up “What’s Up” with “beez in the Trap.” It’s essentially the inside of a Gen Z brain expressed as a highlight reel, right down to the intrusive thoughts that scream “What even is that?” at random intervals. And honestly? Relatable.
What’s Actually Making It Into These “Last 7 Minutes” Playlists?
Short answer: pure, distilled chaos. Long answer: everything from The Internet Classics to the oddly specific pop-culture lore we all pretend we forgot but absolutely didn’t. You’ll find Drag Race Untucked scream-fests (“Because I am what? Sickening!”), Dancing With The Stars throwback moments, and now the occasional Wicked: For Good clips inserted for… spiritual reasons. And, of course, the Vine canon—“I smell like beef,” “Look at all those chickens,” and the avocado kid, because our brains are still stuck in 2014 emotionally.
There are also the unhinged niche moments that only a particular cohort of Tumblr-raised, TikTok-corrupted baddies will get. Think Jenna Marbles in her peak chaotic era, Kardashian confessionals that have nothing to do with anything, and the early Stranger Things interviews that healed a piece of your inner child. It’s a true scrapbook of our collective internet upbringing just curated for the afterlife.
Why Gen Z Is Romanticizing Their Final Seven Minutes?
Gen Z has always coped with existential dread the same way we cope with finals week: humor first, mental breakdown later. The idea of your last seven minutes being a highlight reel of stupid internet culture isn’t depressing — it’s comforting. It’s choosing to believe that instead of reliving heartbreaks or regrets, your brain will just throw on a mental TikTok playlist and roll the credits over a clip of the “kombucha girl” debating a sip.
Plus, we’ve grown up in an era where everything, even boredom in a dining hall, gets turned into content. So, of course, we’re romanticizing our hypothetical ending with the same energy we use to romanticize walking to class with Millie Bobbi Brown’s cover of “Imagine” in our headphones. You may say I’m a dreamer or whatever.
The trend is less “I’m dying” and more “I hope my final moments look well-edited.” It’s aspirational in a weird, self-aware way: if life is chaotic, at least everything (online) will be immaculate.