Music has always been an exhilarating experience for me.

Like any other human, I guess I discovered music at the prime of my teens. During that time, Linkin Park, Green Day and Evanescence were my go to musicians. From then on, music has become my salvation and my second preference when it comes to communicating. My music library has evolved and grown. At present, I have over 1800-2000 artists on my hard disk; some heard of by everyone in the world, some barely discovered.

I cannot do without music. It is my lifeblood. Although, just as it has saved me on numerous occasions, it has also caused ache. Simply because, in times of great emotional turmoil, it has been too relatable and I, wanting to wallow in my masochism, would cut off from it. As mentioned before, I have been obsessively possessive about my music collection, sharing it with a chosen few. Only lately have I started letting others into my coveted world, letting them experience the same emotions I did upon hearing the tunes I surround myself with.

Music also plays a great role in my life, when it comes to love. I don’t know when or how I became a hapless romantic but I did. I hail love as the most beautiful gift and treasure of all. So when love fails to conquer, I mourn it. I rejoice with those who have found love and root for their success. I consider any and all relationships sacred and place them before anything else. Needless to say, in this selfish world, it has been taken advantage of and used ruthlessly, even mocked. Music has clasped hands with this side of me ever since they stumbled upon each other. The lesson though that I learnt from being as I was, is this: As beautiful as love maybe, it is not for everyone. Music helped deal with this painful truth.

A dear friend once told me, that maybe some of us were meant to love selflessly, quietly taking in the pinch that comes with it when people do not value or honour what we give; ravenously consuming what we offer until they find someone else to feed off. As harsh as it maybe, we might never feel this unrequited, infinite love ourselves.

Music, then taught me to let go. I may not be that girl anymore, who believed in love so fiercely, who had hope in love, always. I may now be the girl who has sworn never to listen or follow her heart. It doesn’t mean though that music has let go. Somehow, even in this transition, I have found music that grounds me.

Cynthia Bonitz wrote something that resonated with me. This playlist is a representation of this excerpt.

I'm not going to ask you to stay. I'm not going to show up at the airport like heart-wrecked girls do in the movies, yelling for your name, frantic to tell you everything I never said.
But the truth is - I am devastated, and you will never know that. Because I will never tell you. I say I'm proud of you, excited for all you'll see. That is not a lie. I am. I just wish that it hadn't ended like this. I wish we had more time. 
All I can do is watch you go. All I can do is swallow the break in my soul, take it like resilient girls do, and pretend that my world isn't sinking. "You have to fight for what you want," everyone says to me. But so much time has gone by. I don't really know what to do anymore. I've gotten really great at pretending that I don't miss you, that I don't care.
But that's just life and how it goes, right? You'll go and this chapter will finish and we'll just become words to each other, of what was and what will never be. And please, don't worry about saying anything. You really don't have to. Promise me you won't.
I'd rather have our last words be the silence of that night that we're not supposed to talk about. The night I shouldn't have stayed. The night I turned around anyway and caught you looking at me like no has ever looked at me - even you, back then.
I will never get over that. Ever. If I was haunted before, I am haunted now. And I wish so badly you could know.
Maybe I'll never understand. Or maybe I do already. Either way, I just wish it was enough. Do you know what I mean? Enough to stay. Enough to hear you tell me that it all meant something.
But I will never ask. I will never know.

There is a Spanish word, Querencia. It means, a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

The partnership of music and lost love is the Querencia in my life. Love is the lie we tell ourselves and music is the one that breathes life into it, making it real, seemingly making it true.

Click on the image below to understand this union better.

Hope you guys enjoy!



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