I started writing this at 12:49 AM, so pardon grammatical errors and rambly thoughts. Something came to me, and I just had to type what I was thinking. Hopefully, you can take something away from my little essay.

As any other teenager, music and its sounds play a major role in my life. Throughout the brunt of my 18-year-old life, I had my white-wired Apple earbuds blasting tunes in my ears. In a way, it was the one thing that kept me consistent — let me explain.

I would be lying if I said the last three years weren’t tumultuous.

From a variety of health problems that created daily struggles that (virtually) no one could relate to, to pouring hours into creating a perfectly imperfect college application; many things happened and continue to happen. In many ways I stopped living the way I wanted, leading me down a path of lethargy and doing the bare minimum to get by. Sure I got the grades I wanted, but looking back, it was clear that I let my situation get the best of me.

Maybe it was my fault, maybe my situation was excusable; regardless of either potential truth, I noticed around early June how much music can impact my way of thinking, influence my motivation, and change my direction. As I branched, I learned what music really is: connection.

At a first glance, that seems obvious. For millennia, empires, nomadic groups, colonial settlements, and modern urban lifestyles have music and dance rooted in the soil of their respective cultures… but that’s just the surface of this treble clef-filled iceberg. By connections, I of course mean people. In music, we connect by sharing (I’m sorry indie artist gatekeepers).

Sharing is connecting. When a song makes you think of someone, share it with them. When a song gives off the vibe of a hot summer day on the beach where you’re hoping to tan, share it with someone. When a song makes you cry at 4 AM and you think no one is listening, but really your younger sister is spying on you, share it with someone. By sharing music, you share art; you share feelings; you share joy, sadness, and every other emotion there is. You share a part of you. Detail your thoughts when you share that Spotify link.

Now I know that sounds like some Instagram Gen-Z self-love gimmick, but music is integral to building and fostering your own personal growth. The question that arises is if it is our own growth, how does sharing it with others affect it.

It’s rather simple: their response.

Perhaps you’ll see a response that lacks energy and is just saying the song is good for the sake of appearing pensive, or maybe you’ll receive an exciting response with gratefulness laced in each word of the message. Who knows?

It’s from this message that you can understand yourself.

If it’s a song that isn’t well-liked, yet something is tugging at you inside, maybe you can see yourself within the song’s lyrics. If it’s a song that resonates with the person you share it with, maybe it’s time you delve deeper into that genre and find those underground bangers years ago and place yourself in a new community of people who all appreciate the lost sounds you do.

For me personally, the song that does this is Sunset Road (サンセット・ロード) by Reiko Takahashi. Per volt.fm, no one else (at least within their dataset) has listened to that song as much as I, and I am proud of it. At the time, I felt like I was in limbo. Perhaps it was the fog of the unknown ahead of me, a disappointing SAT score rotted my brain. I found myself encapsulated in a world of funky synths, fresh bass licks, sweet melodies, sugary guitars, and elaborate jazz-infused technological orchestration. It was ear candy. The opening bright synths, soft nostalgic singing, the two lines of English in the chorus, unique vocal layering, and lyrics that sounded happy until you read what they actually were about (like “Hey Ya!” by OutKast in a way) amalgamated into the greatest listening experience of my life.

In essence, it simplified my understanding of the human experience and my understanding of happiness. I think that’s a little funny. An upbeat-sounding song about someone who is trying to let go of the person they love in a language I do not understand is what helped me develop a greater sense of self.

Since then, I’ve shared that song with so many people. Some feel the way I do, some don’t. The point is to live is to connect, and music is the easiest way to do such. I’ve gone from someone who bumped solely Tupac and Biggie Smalls in 7th and 8th grade to someone who just listened to Japanese City Pop, Latin Pop, Brent Faiyaz, and James Taylor all in succession. I’ve read up on philosophies and theory, I learned what I love and hate, I made new friends and lost some, and continue to discover myself through the lens of music. The discussions that follow, the thoughts that ruminate the mind in solace, the live reactions that create facial expressions of sanguine smiles or reveal vitriolic verisimilitude — it’s all a part of the human experiences and how we can both reach for the stars and ground our reality. This concept, sharing and discovering, can be (and should be) applied to things beyond music. For me, it’s just my preferred input. However, if you can ascertain better outputs with other inputs, all means use them. Create your world the way you want and make yourself.

The self is made, not discovered.

We aren’t out there somewhere. There is no map to find the buried hidden treasures we are. There is no path to trek, nor any sand to dig. There is, however, a blank canvas in front of you. In your hands are a palette with every color imaginable and a paintbrush. You have a mission to create. Make yourself. Cement yourself. Design yourself. Lay your foundation, create the walls, furnish the insides, and add decor. You are responsible for yourself, so show yourself some love. You deserve it. Understand that it is hard, requires time and patience, and that mistakes will be made, but in the end, a creation will unveil itself. You can do it, it’s not a matter of trying but a matter of doing.

Let’s create ourselves and do living together.

It’s now 1:57. Let’s see how this creation unveils itself.