Music has always been the one constant that never betrayed me, never talked back, never slammed a door in my face, and never told me I was imagining things. I’ve lived long enough, and through enough chaos, to know that when everything else falls apart, a melody can still hold you together.

For the record, yes — I’m subscribed to YouTube Music, Spotify, and Apple Music. No, I’m not getting into the “which one is best” circus. That’s a fight for people with too much time. I use all three because I love music, and that’s the beginning and end of it.

A Quick Stroll Through History

Long before we had streaming services fighting for subscription numbers, music lived in caves, firelight, and the rhythm of feet on soil. Across every civilization, people sang before they wrote. They drummed before they counted. They created melodies before they built governments.

Music taught stories to the illiterate, carried secrets across continents, held faith alive under empires, and moved armies, nations, and revolutions. It’s no accident that kings, priests, and politicians all understood the power of sound. They feared it for the same reason they tried to control it: music moves hearts faster than laws move minds.

Through the Ages… and Then There’s Me

For me, music has always been that last bit of oxygen in a drowning moment. There were nights when I genuinely felt like letting go — the kind of nights you don’t put in polite conversations — and a single song kept the thread from snapping. Sometimes it was the words. Sometimes it was the bassline. Sometimes it was just the memory attached to it.

Some of the people I loved most gave me music as their parting gift. Songs they adored. Songs we shared. Songs that will live in my heart until the day I die. When someone is gone, their playlist becomes a kind of second heartbeat; a reminder that love doesn’t vanish just because the person does.

The Playlists of My Life

I still make playlists like people used to make mixtapes. A song for someone I love. A theme for a moment. A collection of tracks meant to carry someone through a rough night. It’s old-school, sentimental, and maybe a bit dramatic, but who cares? Music is meant to be shared. It’s meant to wrap around someone and say, “This is how I feel, even if I can’t find the words.”

Sometimes I may share a song here — maybe once a month, or once in a blue moon — and talk about the lyrics, the meaning, the impact. Not as a critic. Not as a musicologist. Just as someone who feels music deeply enough to write about it.

Music as Soul Food

Music steadies me. It sharpens me. It softens me when the world tries to turn me to stone. It lets me remember who I was, who I loved, and who I’m still trying to become. It’s the one thing the world never managed to take from me.

Authorities know exactly how powerful music can be — how it can teach, strengthen, unite, and ignite. You can silence a person, but good luck silencing a rhythm that has already buried itself in the collective memory. Music starts movements. It shifts cultures. It whispers courage into people who have none left.

And So…

Music is food for my soul. It’s comfort when I’m empty, structure when everything feels scattered, and joy when life decides to be generous for a change. I don’t listen to music the way some people listen to background noise. I live in it. I breathe it. I hang on to it when I need to survive another day.

So yes — expect the occasional song here and there. No schedule, no promises. Just moments. And maybe those moments will mean something to someone who needs it, the same way music has meant everything to me.