Some songs need dimly lit churches, reverberating across stone floors & meeting you in worn wooden pews. They need an empty heart with open hands, closed eyes, & big, fat, silent tears.

Some songs need wooden spoon microphones & enthusiastic air guitar solos. They need a moment of messy, knotted hair flying around to feel young & alive, free of looming deadlines & forgetting about the severe lack of sleep.

Some songs need candlelit living rooms with glitter shimmering in the flickering light. They need a slow dance with the love of your life, socks getting all twisted in the carpet as you gently turn together.

And some songs just need to be turned up to maximum volume, blaring through iPhone speakers while you shower, streaming out of your laptop while you meander about your work day, and washing over you in the car as you beat out the rhythm on the steering wheel.

Those are the songs that are meant to be played on repeat. For a week.

(Sometimes that means an entire album. #TS1989, for example. Still going strong here at The Wine Cellar, guys.)

I’m not a musician, but music affects me deeply. Certain songs will forever be linked to pivotal moments in my life: a moment of complete surrender, a tiring semester, a season of beautiful romance.

But some songs are just for a moment (or 10, if it’s on repeat) of reprieve from the daily grind. Desk dance parties are a regular thing.

I play songs over & over to feel them to my core. Their melodies coursing through my veins, filling me up & encouraging me to let my heart be moved as many times as it takes to truly connect with this glorious mystery that is human emotion.

So that means some songs are meant to be played on repeat. For a week.