When I first made this playlist, I wasn't really thinking about it as a story. I was just putting songs together because I liked them. Some had been sitting in my music library for years, while others were songs I had recently discovered through TikTok edits. Some were there because of a specific lyric. Others were there because of the production. And some were there for no real reason beyond the fact that they felt right.
That is usually how I make playlists. They tend to reflect whatever mood or general vibe I am in at the time, but I rarely give them names that actually explain what they are about. This one is called "big bop," which is about as descriptive as some of my other playlists like "i'm quirky," "woop," ":(" or the ones that are literally just random emojis. I think there is something slightly embarrassing about naming a playlist something like "songs that perfectly describe my current emotional state" and then having someone else see it. Somehow, a completely meaningless name feels safer.
Originally, I listened to this playlist on shuffle. There wasn't supposed to be an order, and there wasn't necessarily a story connecting one song to the next. But when I started writing about why I liked each song, I realized there actually were connections everywhere. Songs that I had added for completely different reasons kept circling around the same ideas: wanting something to change, wanting to be wanted, falling for someone, questioning what a relationship meant, knowing something isn't good for you but still wanting it, reflecting on what has already happened, and trying to understand yourself through all of it.
That doesn't mean those are the correct meanings of these songs. They are simply the meanings I hear in them.
And I think that distinction is probably the most important thing I took away from writing all of this.
Music is incredibly personal. Two people can listen to the exact same song and walk away with completely different interpretations. One person might focus on the lyrics while someone else is completely captivated by the production. Someone might hear a song as romantic while another person hears heartbreak. Someone might hear hope where another person hears sadness.
Sometimes you don't even know what a song means to you until you spend enough time listening to it.
For me, that happens constantly with production. There are songs on this playlist where I barely focused on the literal meaning of the lyrics when I first added them. What pulled me in was the atmosphere. Orbiter is a good example. I first heard it through TikTok edits, but what kept me interested was the way the song builds tension and the space imagery that makes yearning feel distant and almost impossible to reach. Video Games works in a similar way for me. The symphonic production makes it feel cinematic and almost surreal, like I am watching a scene rather than simply listening to a song.
There are other songs where the lyrics are what immediately grabbed me. Waiting Room became connected to that uncomfortable space of wondering whether something that felt meaningful to you was actually meaningful to the other person. David turns inward, asking why we are drawn toward certain people and whether, after everything, we will ever be able to love again.
And then there are songs where the distinction between lyrics and production almost disappears.
Fade Into You doesn't need to explain heartbreak to me because I can hear it in the sound itself. There is something hazy and distant about it that makes the sadness feel like something that has settled into you rather than something that is actively exploding around you. House Song does something similar, but in a quieter way. The humming and gradually disappearing lyrics make it feel like drifting toward sleep, when your thoughts are still there but are becoming less organized and more dreamlike.
That dreamlike quality shows up in several places throughout the playlist, and I think that says something about what I am drawn to in music. I like songs that create a world.
Sometimes I imagine an entire scene while listening to a song. honeybee gives me one of the clearest examples of that. I can picture spending an entire day with someone you love and ending the night on a rooftop under the stars, suddenly realizing just how much this person means to you. Nothing dramatic has to happen. The importance comes from the quietness of the moment.
Other songs create scenes that are much more chaotic.
Revolving Door makes me picture a passionate argument where all the frustration that has been building finally comes out, followed by the quiet aftermath when both people need a moment to breathe. bloodstream creates a similar image of two people saying things they regret during a fight, separating, and eventually having enough time apart to grow into people who might be able to find their way back to each other.
I think I am particularly drawn to those kinds of emotional contradictions.
There are several songs here where someone knows something is bad for them and still wants it anyway. run for the hills is about knowing you should leave while still being pulled toward the person. Siren Sounds creates the image of repeatedly going back to someone you know you should let go of. iloveitiloveitiloveit captures that moment where you know you're about to make the same mistake again but decide, essentially, to give in anyway.
I don't necessarily interpret those songs as celebrating self-destructive relationships. What interests me is the contradiction itself. You can know better and still want something. You can recognize that someone isn't good for you and still miss them. Knowing what is rational doesn't automatically erase what you feel.
That same contradiction appears in Steady, although in a different form. One person wants the relationship while another person feels incapable of accepting it, creating that painful contrast between "I want" and "I can't." What makes it especially heartbreaking is the awareness that the person may be the one keeping themselves from having what they want.
And then there are the songs that are less about a specific relationship and more about the simple desire to be wanted.
Sue Me captures that feeling particularly well for me. Sometimes you don't want a complicated love story. You don't need someone to promise you forever. Sometimes you just want to know that someone looks at you and thinks, "I want you." There is something validating about being desired, about knowing that someone chose you.
That feeling connects to Ruin My Life in a completely different way. I don't hear the title as literally wanting someone to destroy your life. I hear it as wanting someone to disrupt a life that has become too stagnant. Like throwing a rock into a completely still lake and watching the ripples spread outward. Suddenly your routine changes, your thoughts are occupied by someone, and there is something new to feel excited about.
That might actually be one of the biggest themes running through this entire playlist: wanting to feel something.
Sometimes that means wanting love. Sometimes it means wanting excitement. Sometimes it means wanting relief. Sometimes it means simply wanting the thoughts in your head to quiet down.
That last one is where the cure becomes much more personal for me.
I connected with that song during a period when anxiety could quickly turn into depressive episodes and I was struggling with a lot of negative thoughts about myself. The song captured the feeling of being overwhelmed by your own mind and not believing that another person, or even yourself, could necessarily fix it. The question of "Why can't it ever be enough?" became bigger than relationships. It represented wondering when all the things going wrong would finally stop. When would there finally be a break? When would it finally be my turn for something to go right?
That is probably the biggest difference between writing about a song and simply listening to one.
When you're just listening, you can let the music wash over you. When you start writing about it, you have to ask yourself why it affects you.
And sometimes the answer is uncomfortable.
You realize that a song you thought you liked because of its production is actually connected to something personal. You realize that a lyric you always thought was beautiful hits differently because you recognize yourself in it. You realize that a song you've been listening to for years has changed meaning because you have changed.
That happened throughout this playlist.
Colors became about how another person can change the way you experience the world, even after they are gone. Waiting Room became about the strange process of repeating something to yourself until you eventually stop fighting against it. Fade Into You became about longing that doesn't necessarily need to be resolved. Strangers became even more interesting after I learned more about its meaning and realized that my initial interpretation of its dreamlike relief wasn't as far off as I thought.
And honeybee became this imagined moment of realizing that someone has quietly become important enough that losing them would hurt in a completely different way.
None of these interpretations are necessarily the definitive meaning of the songs.
But they are what the songs mean to me.
I think that is what makes music so interesting in the first place. A song can exist independently of the person who wrote it and still become something completely different in the mind of the person listening. You can attach your own memories, fears, hopes, experiences, and imagined scenarios to it. Sometimes you can even hear something in a song that the artist never intended, and that doesn't necessarily make your interpretation wrong.
It just makes it yours.
Looking at this playlist as a whole, I don't think it tells one single story. It is too messy for that. There are songs about excitement and songs about exhaustion. Songs about wanting someone and songs about trying to let someone go. Songs about romance, uncertainty, anger, sadness, self-doubt, nostalgia, and hope. Some are deeply personal to me, while others are almost entirely about a sound that I happen to love.
But maybe the lack of one single story is exactly what makes it representative of how I actually experience music.
My emotions don't exist in neat categories either.
I can want something and be afraid of it at the same time. I can miss someone and know I shouldn't go back. I can want to be loved while also knowing that another person can't fix everything inside me. I can feel hopeful and sad at the same time. I can look back at something and appreciate what it meant without necessarily wanting it back.
Maybe that is why I don't think of this playlist as being about one emotion.
It is about feeling.
Feeling restless when life becomes stagnant. Feeling hopeful when something new enters your life. Feeling wanted. Feeling confused. Feeling like you know better but still wanting something anyway. Feeling the aftermath of something ending. Feeling like you're drifting somewhere between reality and a dream. Feeling completely overwhelmed by your own thoughts. Feeling like, for once, you might actually be okay.
And sometimes, feeling all of those things within the same day.
When I started this playlist, it was just "big bop." A collection of songs I happened to like, thrown together with no particular order. After writing about all of them, though, I don't think I can see it quite the same way anymore.
Maybe that is the strange thing about playlists.
You can make one without realizing what you're saying.
You put songs together because they sound good. Because you heard them in an edit. Because you like one particular lyric. Because the production scratches some part of your brain in exactly the right way. Because you listened to the song years ago and suddenly remembered it.
Then one day you shuffle through the playlist and realize there are pieces of yourself scattered throughout it.
Not necessarily a complete picture. Not a perfect explanation of who you are.
Just little pieces.
A desire to be wanted. A fear of being hurt. A fascination with things that feel distant and unknown. A tendency to romanticize moments. An appreciation for complicated emotions. A need for things to change when life feels stagnant. A willingness to sit with sadness instead of immediately trying to fix it. A hope that eventually things will feel lighter.
And maybe that's all a playlist ever really has to be.
Not a perfect reflection of who you are, but a collection of things that, for whatever reason, make you feel something.
That is probably why I keep coming back to these songs.
Not because they all mean the same thing.
But because, in one way or another, they all made me feel something.