The meltdown

I knew it was bad when my own roommate told me I looked like a character from a zombie show. She wasn’t wrong. I had a pimple forming on my chin the size of Texas, under-eyes darker than my coffee, and skin that looked… tired. Like it had submitted the essay before I did.

The distractions

I try to cope. Iced coffee at 2 a.m., scrolling TikTok “just for five minutes” (two hours later I know every dance trend), and random trips to Sephora when I can’t look at my notes anymore. Honestly, Sephora is less about products at that point and more about fluorescent-light therapy.

The accidental miracle

One of those trips, I grabbed a cream in pure desperation. I wasn’t expecting much. But somehow, it calmed my redness, took the edge off my stress pimples, and made me look like I had at least a semi-functioning sleep schedule. For once, I didn’t feel the need to cake on concealer just to face my professor.

The rituals

Now it’s part of my finals survival kit: that cream, dry shampoo, lip balm, and enough coffee to fuel a small village. I’ll slap it on before class, pretend I’ve been awake and thriving, and no one has to know the truth (except maybe my essay).

The lesson

Exams are temporary. Stress skin feels eternal. But trust me, your grades won’t matter as much as your sanity — or your glow — in ten years. My advice? Breathe, hydrate, sneak in naps, and if you find one product that makes you look alive, guard it like it’s the last answer key.