Let us be honest with the emotional auditors for a second. The world is loud. Rent is confusing. Careers feel like group projects with fate. Climate headlines read like dystopian trailers. Group chats are simultaneously therapy sessions and breaking news desks. In these conditions, responding with calm, spreadsheet energy feels… ambitious.
Enter: being delulu.
Not clinical. Not conspiracy coded. Not living in a cave made of vision boards. I mean the fun, self aware, glitter glued optimism that whispers, everything is terrible but I will still romanticise my walk to Old Mess. The kind of mindset where you apply for jobs like you are already famous, light a candle before opening emails, and tell yourself the universe is rearranging furniture rather than actively drop kicking your plans.
Gen Z did not invent chaos, but we absolutely added branding. Being delulu is not about denying reality. It is about staring it dead in the face and still putting on lip gloss. It is hope with eyeliner. Delusion adjacent but fully insured.
This guide is for the dreamers who also have spreadsheets. The manifesters who double check contracts. The people who say, I trust the process, while quietly refreshing their bank app.
Let us laugh. Let us cope. Let us optimise fantasy without losing the plot.
What being delulu actually means and what it definitely does not.
First things first. We need boundaries. Strong ones. Emotional velvet ropes.
Being delulu does not mean ignoring facts, refusing feedback, or deciding you can survive solely on oat lattes and vibes. It does not mean quitting your degree because you saw one motivational Reel. It does not mean declaring yourself destined for greatness while missing three deadlines and a dentist appointment.
That is not delulu. That is chaos without a safety net.
Real delulu energy is strategic optimism. It is applying for the job even though the description says ten years experience and you have two and a Google Doc full of dreams. It is walking into presentations thinking, they are about to be obsessed with me, while also rehearsing the night before. It is believing good things are coming while updating your CV like it owes you money.
Think of it as emotional seasoning. Reality is the meal. Delulu is the hot sauce.
It keeps you moving when logic alone would have you lying on the floor staring at the ceiling fan. It reframes rejection as redirection. It calls bad days character development. It looks at uncertainty and says, fine, but make it cinematic.
The key difference between healthy delulu and full delusion is accountability. You can hype yourself without lying to yourself. You can dream big while still paying bills, replying to emails, and acknowledging that sometimes things flop.
In short. Be unrealistic about your potential. Be extremely realistic about your responsibilities.
Balance. Poise. A little sparkle.
Why delulu optimism is basically emotional first aid right now.
In an era where everything feels expensive, unstable, and one news alert away from a spiral, constant seriousness is unsustainable. Your nervous system cannot live in fight or flight forever. At some point, it needs a disco ball.
Delulu optimism works because it interrupts despair. It gives your brain a tiny trampoline. Instead of thinking, nothing will ever work out, you think, what if it does and I look hot when it happens.
This is not ignorance. This is psychological survival.
Hope motivates action far better than doom. If you believe something good might happen, you are more likely to try. You send the email. You show up to the interview. You start the project. You keep going after rejection instead of dissolving into a cardigan.
There is also something rebellious about joy in bleak times. Being cheerful on purpose. Romanticising your commute. Treating small wins like Olympic medals. Choosing to laugh when capitalism is sprinting and you are power walking.
Delulu culture says, I acknowledge the mess, but I will not let it narrate my entire personality.
It is optimism as protest.
Plus, humour is medicinal. If you cannot afford therapy twice a week, at least you can afford a running internal monologue that calls your life a coming of age montage.
Cue music. Wind in hair. Existential dread in the background.
How to practise safe, responsible delusion in the wild.
Now comes the practical bit. The seatbelt section of the ride.
Rule one. Romanticise effort, not outcomes. Instead of manifesting instant success, manifest enjoying the grind. Becoming obsessed with your own discipline is far more effective than waiting for a miracle.
Rule two. Gas yourself up privately. Document your progress. Screenshot compliments. Keep a folder called Receipts of my brilliance. Open it when impostor syndrome tries to rob you.
Rule three. Pair affirmations with action. Saying I am unstoppable while lying in bed is cute. Saying it while sending three applications is iconic.
Rule four. Protect your delusion from negativity hoarders. Not everyone deserves access to your dreams. Some people bring raincloud energy to sunny forecasts. Keep your manifesting circle small and moisturised.
Rule five. Laugh at yourself. The moment delulu becomes rigid, it stops being healthy. If your big plan flops, pivot dramatically. Call it a plot twist. Order noodles. Try again tomorrow.
Being delulu is not about pretending life is perfect. It is about refusing to let imperfection make you small.
Just keep your feet on the ground while your head is in the clouds. Dream wildly. Plan meticulously. Cry sometimes. Laugh often. Apply for things you are not ready for yet. Become ready on the job.
Our generation is navigating chaos with memes, manifestation journals, budgeting apps, and an unshakeable belief that things might turn out fine actually.
In a world that keeps glitching, choosing hopeful delusion might be the most rational response of all.
For more such articles, visit Her Campus at MUJ. And if you genuinely believe delulu is the solulu, Niamat Dhillon at HCMUJ seems like a good corner of the internet for you.