We are in the trenches. It is late October, which means the first batch of mid-term grades are trickling in and second mid-terms, research papers, and final projects are looming around the corner. I have postponed writing this article until two days before it is due, partly because of schoolwork, but also because I found my current situation somewhat ironic.
I planned to argue against the notion of romanticizing life while experiencing, in real-time, how excruciatingly challenging it is to face the unromanticised reality of an accumulated workload, neglected laundry, and a near-empty fridge.
I could let the laundry and fridge be, spend eight dollars on a coffee and blueberry muffin; prop these Gilmore Girls-esque treats next to my half-written essay and a window with an autumnal view; snap a cute photo of this set-up then post it on Instagram. I would get several likes and instantly feel better, less stressed. Only it would not have been long before this “main character energy” wore off, before I remembered life is not a coming-of-age drama.
The “romanticize life” trend dates back to 2020, when the world had collectively fallen into a different, much deeper trench called the COVID-19 pandemic.
On TikTok, an audio track was posted and reposted over homogenous montages of girls skinny dipping in glistening lakes, hiking up picturesque mountains, clanking mugs of hot chocolate with their friends, and such.
The track went: “You have to start romanticizing your life, you have to start thinking of yourself as the main character, ‘cause if you don’t, life will continue to pass you by, and all the little things that make it so beautiful will continue to go unnoticed, so take a second, and look around, and realize that it’s a blessing for you to be here right now.”
According to that last sentence, the drive to “romanticize life” seems positive. The idea is to be more appreciative, notice the little things, and express gratitude for simply being alive. That was something many viewers needed to hear, being stuck home with not much to do as a life-threatening virus circulated the globe.
A wave of “romanticize life” content subsequently splashed over social media. The trend has impressively sustained until now. Some call it a Gen-Z movement against postmodern cynicism, but really, this movement has rejected one extreme — the view that our lives have no ultimate meaning — for another extreme, rooted in the word “romanticise.”
To romanticise means “to talk about something in a way that makes it sound better than it really is.” Considering this, wouldn’t asking yourself to romanticise life imply that your life is not good enough to begin with? What does a romanticized life even look like?
This lifestyle, worldview, or movement (call it what you will) is primarily reliant on aesthetics. It is taking a task as mundane as writing a paper and framing it in a desirable light, often through visuals. That may begin with a set-up like the one I described at the start of this article, and voila! Boasting about your study set-up on social media seems to turn what would have been a dull activity into something worth appreciating — at least, that is what your likes and follows are telling you.
There is nothing inherently problematic with trying to cultivate joy in mundanity, or with curating a pleasing study space; the problem is that this newly-framed life does not quite hold beyond social media. After all, you cannot edit life into a montage of joyful moments and cut out the emotional hurdles. You cannot make life better by giving it a poetic title.
Take the lifestyle content creator, Michelle Choi’s Youtube video title on May 6, 2025: “I went to Korea to cure my homesickness.” Korea is Choi’s home country, and while returning to your home country when you miss it is a valid course of action, the way this caption is phrased glosses over the emotionally taxing experience of coping with homesickness. It participates in the romanticization trend by oversimplifying hard times in life.
The danger of the trend lies in how it instructs people — 2.31 million subscribers, in Choi’s case — to believe not only that a simple, idealized life exists, but also that such a life can be achieved through fairly straightforward measures: if not a few additions to one’s daily routine, then a quick trip across the globe.
Romanticizing life is a form of denying hardship when instead you could have accepted and dealt practically with the hardship. The truth of the matter is, one has very little control over when mid-terms and assignments come cascading towards us, nor can you curb your far-from-aesthetic but natural emotional breakdowns.
Instead of glamorizing life, why not just live it?
Yes, it is daunting to live through hardships, but life is supposed to be hard sometimes. It is not supposed to be romantic. Even with no photos to prove it, no dreamy audio track to narrate your story, life gets good naturally if you accept its challenges and allow difficult emotions to come and subside.
Now that I have made my case, I offer to live up to it by washing my clothes, getting my groceries, and finishing my assignments despite how unromantic it all is.
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