February may be over, but its presence lingers like the smell of sweet chocolate-covered strawberries. February is the month of love and also the month of delusion. It’s the month of silly campus activities like the Marriage Pact that might mean something, the betrayal of checking someone’s story only to find out they’re not single, and the pink and red haze that all leave a bittersweet funk that lingers into March.
I am no stranger to delusion—we’re practically besties. She’s not always on top of her classes, might get cut off at bars, often steals people’s protein bars at house parties.
She’s a little messy and kind of problematic—and that’s what I love about her—but no matter how messy I am, she always has my back. We talk all year round, psychoanalyzing for hours, looking at the interactions of my year-long crush from a new angle again. When he says “hey” instead of “hello” or tilts his head 10 degrees toward my direction, it’s clear proof of a deeper, beautiful connection. She lets me draw all kinds of conclusions, avoiding the blatantly obvious: that he’s just not into me.
My other friends often do not tolerate my ramblings—rolling their eyes or shutting the conversation down. Delusion gets a bad rep, often linked only to relationships, situationships, and even “eyecontactships”. I empathize with others when I’m on the receiving end of someone’s out-of-touch musings. Yes, it’s a little annoying and maybe even sad. But when it comes to my own situations, I wonder: why can’t a girl live?
Delusion isn’t just about romance, but about the little ways we reimagine our reality to keep us going. Just like love, it’s a part of the human experience.
The unwavering belief in a world where I matter, where I fulfill my dreams, and where I experience love with my eyecontactship motivates me. Call it optimism, escapism, or daydreaming, but it’s about refusing to accept reality as it is and crafting a reality that’s uniquely yours. It’s about seeing beyond what’s in front of me. It’s a powerful tool to get through the present, spark motivation, or foster change.
Delusion and I also talk about other things. I talk to her about my dreams of being a nurse practitioner, my journey to embrace my true self, and my growing passion for the creative arts. She stops me from dwelling on the dumpster fire that is nursing school and my past. Instead, she turns my head to look forward, concentrating on what truly matters—my career, the pursuit of authenticity, and honing my craft. She encourages me to forge a path in my life that I’m confident to follow.
It’s important to distinguish between using delusion as a tool for your well-being and completely ignoring obvious problems in your situation. Thinking my crush likes me back, even if he’s just some random guy, or believing everyone is in love with me just because they glanced my way for half a second is fun.
It’s not supposed to be serious: it adds some lightheartedness into my life and keeps me from spiraling over issues I can’t fix overnight.
But when you turn to delusion to escape from the soul-crushing weight of your loneliness, you risk leaving your problems unresolved. Delusion is not meant to coddle you—she is there to empower us, to give us hope, to guide and carry us through our, at times, harsh reality.
Maybe delusion is not about being out of touch with reality. Instead, it is about making reality bearable and enjoyable. It is about daring to see the world as not just as it, but as it could be: more hopeful and more bright.
In a world like this, that’s exactly what I need. If February celebrates the power of love, let’s march into March embracing something just as bold, ridiculous, and necessary: the power of delusion.
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