If We’ve Broken Up, Could You Please Give Me Back My Favorite Song?


Music used to be my way of escaping reality.

I could listen to a song and drift away to another place where my problems didn’t exist, where I could step into someone else’s shoes and imagine life through their point of view. It didn’t matter if I was sad, or lonely, or happy, or anxious. There was a song for that. But not anymore, thanks to you.

Because now when I listen to that song I told you always put me in a good mood, all I can think about is the time we danced around to it in your kitchen at 3AM. The way your hand fit perfectly in the small of my back, the way your laugh echoed through the apartment when I rammed my hip into your counter during a poorly planned twirl, and the way you’d tasted when you’d finally had enough and kissed me as I sat on your counter after the song ended.

When that music video you told me to watch on our first date comes on the TV, all I can think about is that first week of cute dates and nervous excitement. The way you would walk with your hands in your pockets because you were too nervous to put your hand in mine, the way your eyes shined when you laughed, and the way you had abruptly kissed me for the first time when I was in the middle of saying something. I hadn’t minded the interruption; those stolen kisses are probably one of my favorite memories of you.

But the worst part is that I can finally relate to those songs of heartbreak and agony, the songs that I had once appreciated for their intense, emotional lyrics but could never truly understand. Now, thanks to you, I can.

I wish I had never shared all of my favorite songs and artists with you, because it feels like I gave you a piece of me that I’ll never be able to get back. I wish I didn’t constantly wonder if you were sharing the same songs you’d shared with me with your new boyfriend, and I wish that when I discover a new song, I didn’t immediately think of how much you would like it and want to send it to you. But most of all, I just wish I could listen to music again. Because the only thing worse than hearing a song and thinking of you is sitting in silence and being left to my own thoughts.

I used to believe there was a song for everything. I just wish there was one that would help me find my old self again.

featured image – (500) Days Of Summer