Never has anyone wanted to switch to Spotify from Apple Music more.

If you're like me, you have probably either heard people talk about their most played songs in 2018. My roommate's #1 song was "Lucid Dreams," which she proceeded to play on repeat after seeing her Spotify Wrapped list. 12 times.

You're either me or you're my roommate: someone who has Spotify or someone who uses someone else's Spotify playlists. It's leaving us all reminiscing on the songs that we spent most of our car rides jamming to, or at every party dancing to, or in our dorms crying to.

But why do we feel such a strong connection to an automated list?

The answer has something to do with how we use Spotify. It's different from any other commonly used apps, such as Instagram, Snapchat, or Twitter. It's not really a social network, and we mostly use it personally. When we turn to music, it mostly acts as a source of comfort or is deeply attached to our emotions. I listen to Jorja Smith when I'm feeling angst or pain, I listen to Drake before the gym, I listen to Kanye before I go out. And yes, I listen to Mozart while studying for exams (it helps, I swear). Spotify is in my car, in my room, in my shower, in the library.

This is intensely personal. Although our friends can name some of our favorite songs, Spotify was literally with us through our highs and lows. We don't see this kind of data collection as creepy or invasive, it's endearing, like an old friend sending a text asking about how we're doing.

At a time when we feel so disconnected with busy work schedules and mounting assignments, it feels nice to have something as simple as a list of songs that we forgot we played, and something else to keep track of that for us.

Want to have this effect on someone? Next time you give a card for someone's birthday or special occasion, make lists! It could be their favorite songs of the year, or movies they loved, or restaurants you both couldn't stop going to. Maybe we can all learn how to connect to one another again, ironically, from an app.