Please Make a Box For My Heart and Line It With Cotton Balls

by Joy Monger

Sometimes (most of the time) I am too damn sensitive.  I swear it’s like I’m Temple Grandin‘s more stylish sister.  Only without all the cows.

For example, on a pretty regular basis, I sit down at my computer and I sort all my songs on itunes by # of plays.  And then I scroll down all the way to the bottom and I pick a song that has only been played once, or maybe never played at all.

And I listen to it.

Just so that the song can have a higher play count.

Which means when I should be spending my mornings before work fist pumping to the new Florence and the Machine anthem, instead I listen to a crappy Joan Osborne song. A song that I downloaded for a mix CD ten years ago that I gave to my Mom but never listened to.

Let’s be honest. My Mom probably never listened to it either.

And I do all this just so the song feels better about itself compared to all the other songs.

Ya. Really.

It wasn’t til tonight that I sat down to listen to another zero song that I realized having empathy for music is effffffffing WEIRD.

Even more embarrassingly, my number one top played song ever on my computer is…It’s Like That by Mariah Carey.

Ya. It’s like that ya’ll.

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