No. 093 - NIKI’s “La La Lost You” changed my life
After a summer of revelation and romance, Angelisa Cunniff still sings along
This Song Changed My Life is an independent music publication featuring weekly essays from people all around the world about the songs that mean the most to them. Created (and illustrated) by Grace Lilly.
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• 4 min read •
Twenty-two-year-old me was soft as butter, moldable. She did not know the difference between nice and kind, lust and love, and I would refer to her as a baby, but she was grown. A young woman who knew very clearly what she wanted, convinced the path forward matched that vision.
That was the year I came out to myself; it also happened to be the year of the global pandemic. My only roommate had fled to Virginia three months into the lease we just signed, and I was alone for the first time in my life. Finally able to hear my own thoughts in my silent apartment, the revelation happened slowly. It was a truth nudging at me that wouldn’t rest, floating to the top of my consciousness after being repressed by fear, shame, and distraction for so many years. Acknowledge me, pay attention to me, I’m here, I’m a part of you.
“La La Lost You” by NIKI is ranked twice (acoustic and original) on my 2020 Spotify Wrapped. It was on repeat as I digested and played with these new feelings that upended my view of life and love. This time could’ve been heavy, and it was, but there was also levity and beauty to it. Mostly because I had a crush who sent this song to me, and it changed my life.
Her name was C. We matched on Bumble in the summer of 2020, and sending songs back and forth from 6 a.m. to midnight became the basis of our relationship. Trapped in our apartments, we diligently listened to each other’s recommendations, offering commentary and praise.
C. sent me this particular song on one of those long, hot days and it felt like I discovered a new world. I had never felt like this before. The melody helped connect me to C. The quick tempo reminded me of my own heartbeat when she turned her attention towards me. Lyrically, NIKI describes two lovers separated by the world, one in New York, one in Los Angeles, and wonders wistfully what could’ve been. Her longing closes the gap between coasts as she declares her boundless love, regardless of whether she receives that energy back.
Each day as the sun set, I ended my lockdown days by taking long walks down to the waterfront in Hoboken, staring across the river at the Manhattan skyline with my earbuds in. C. wasn’t with me, but somehow I didn’t feel alone — not completely. There was someone who took the time to think about me, someone who I felt understood what I was going through and provided the support I needed. When I reached the edge of the walkway, where the sun glittered off the Hudson, my heart would swell. Waving in the direction of the Upper West Side where C. lived, I texted her.
“I can see you,” I typed.
“I can feel it,” she wrote back.
Before bed, I scrolled through pictures of her on Instagram, enamored by her ringlet curls and little clips of her featured broadcasts (she worked at a radio station). Through these clips, I would sometimes get to hear her boisterous laugh, which shook her entire body. Her beauty and taste consumed me. Each night, I would dream about her in vivid detail, only to wake up again, ready for more.
The culmination of this affair was in July, when she came to my apartment after a long day at the beach. Her hair smelled like sea salt and sand, she was a tiny bit shorter than me, and we were both so nervous. As she kissed my lips, my forehead, my neck, and slowly untied my short-sleeved jumpsuit, she whispered in my ear, “What should we listen to?” I grabbed for my speaker and put on the playlist we had pulled together piece by piece, losing myself in the emotional rollercoaster of the beat and her hands on my body.
After that day, I never saw her again.
My heart was broken, but I had my music. The rest of the summer, I sang NIKI’s chorus aloud, my voice echoing back to me against the four walls of my home, a little louder each time.
Hope New York holds you, hope it holds you like I do.
While my demons stay faithful, in the city of angels.
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About Angelisa
Angelisa is a queer writer based out of Jersey City, New Jersey who is trying to recreate the height of her 2014 Tumblr blog. She loves yoga, her pitbull Marcus, and any chance to make or play with art in all forms.
Instagram @angelisaaaaa
⭐ Recommended by
Salena Malhotra (No. 073)
Every TSCML writer is asked to recommend a future contributor, creating a never-ending, underlying web of interconnectivity 🕸️
Categories
Friendship • Family • Coming of Age • Romance • Grief • Spirituality & Religion • Personal Development
Recommended
Top 10 • Grace's Favorites • Secret
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