My Music Lifeline: Every Version Of Me Lives In A Spotify Playlist

If you want to meet every version of me, you don’t need my journal. You just need my music playlist.

Mind Medicine. Grooves & Moves. High on Life. Passport Diaries.

If you looked at my Spotify account, you wouldn’t just find curated playlists with titles I probably thought were clever at the time — you would find every version of me that has ever existed. There isn’t just one me, there are dozens. Each playlist holds a different personality, mindset, and phase of my life that has remained stagnant, but comes to life at the push of a button.

To me, music is not only a way to express yourself, but it can also be used as an emotional archive of every life you have lived. From the main character moments to the sad girl era, you document your timeline through experience, curating playlists that over time develop into your music lifeline. 

For many people, music platforms have become more than just places you listen, but more of a space where you can explore and connect to new genres, artists, and sounds. If you’re like me, you make playlists that encompass your moods, emotions, and eras of your life.

When I want to dance, Mind Medicine is my go-to. When I want that old-soul feeling, Ok Boomer is queued. And when it’s time to do karaoke with my girls, well, that’s just Olivia Dean on repeat.

What makes a playlist so special is that they capture emotions in a way that words sometimes can’t. A single song can hold an entire memory of a place, a person, or a version of yourself that once existed. 

Unlike a traditional journal, playlists don’t require an explanation. They don’t filter or reorganize your thoughts to be cohesive; you simply add to the list as you wish. It’s raw and authentic, and purely you.

Playlists become a timeline you didn’t mean to create. I never set out to document my life this way. None of my playlists was made with the intention of preserving memories or tracking personal growth. But it became a scrapbook of memories, each connected to a certain playlist.

Over twenty playlists, curated from middle school through college, are stored like little time capsules waiting to be rediscovered. Each holds a different emotional climate, which I fully embodied without realizing it might be temporary. But when I scroll through them, it feels like scrolling through former selves.

One playlist belongs to the girl who felt everything too intensely. The songs are slow, emotional, and lyric-heavy. The kind of music you listen to when you’re alone, or even when something is wrong, but you don’t know what. This playlist exists because, however I was feeling in the moment, it resonated with each song saved. This version of me still exists in the playlist I made.

One of my favorites, High on Life, is for all my indie-folk-rock fans that need a good road trip playlist. For me, this one holds the most memories of exploration, traveling to new countries, meeting new friends, and discovering the world, while discovering myself at the same time. Every place I have been, songs have been added that created a free-spirited timeline. This version of me still exists in the playlist I made.

Then, there is the playlist that sounds completely different. This one is louder, bolder, and brighter — for when I want to dance, sing, or drive with the windows down and romanticize everything. It almost feels cinematic, or maybe just dramatic, but it’s part of who I am now. Full of life, happiness, and serenity, it became my go-to for the days when the sun is shining a little extra. This version of me still exists in the playlist I made.

It’s comforting to know that these versions of myself don’t disappear when I outgrow them. They coexist, sitting next to each other in my life-library like alternate universes. I have come to realize this is the most authentic record of myself, my life, and my history. It’s honest and fully transparent to my feelings and emotions at the time, because identity isn’t one smooth evolution. It is fragmented, seasonal, and shaped by circumstances and through experiences. 

Identity isn’t something we move on from as much as it is something we carry with us. Every version of me still exists — just quieter now, tucked into playlists I may not visit as often, but still have the opportunity to do so. While I’ve grown through life, these phases haven’t been erased, but preserved.

But maybe I wasn’t just making a playlist, but saving pieces of myself that couldn’t be recorded any other way.

• #music
• #playlist
• spotify