Growing up with music as a kid - I used to feel like artists

The words of Becky Hill, “Growing up with music as a kid – I used to feel like artists were writing songs about me falling in love,” ring with the innocence of youth and the eternal truth that the human heart longs to find itself reflected in the voices of others. In these words we see how music, like an ancient oracle, speaks to each soul as if it were the chosen one. Though the artist may write from their own story, the listener feels as though destiny itself crafted those melodies for their own heart, their own journey, their own trembling experience of love. This is the secret power of song—it speaks to the many, but it pierces each one as though they alone were meant to hear it.

To the ancients, this was no mystery. They knew that the Muses gave to humanity the gift of song so that the individual soul might be lifted beyond its solitude and find communion in the shared language of melody. What Becky Hill describes is not mere coincidence but the very essence of music’s magic: that it binds together the lives of strangers through invisible threads of rhythm and emotion. For the youth discovering the world, when the first fires of affection stir within the heart, every lyric seems written upon their own soul, as though heaven itself sent it down for their story alone.

Consider the tale of the poet Sappho from the isle of Lesbos. She wrote verses of longing, desire, and tenderness so universal that generations later, men and women alike read her words as though she were writing directly to them. Young lovers whispered her fragments to one another, convinced they were mirrors of their own secret feelings. Sappho’s voice was one, yet through the ages it became countless, echoing the truth that love expressed in song is not bound to the singer but blossoms within the heart of every listener who dares to feel.

So it is with the young listener of modern days. A child in her room, hearing the chorus of a pop song, believes with all her being that the artist has seen into her heart. The names and faces may differ, yet the rhythm aligns with her heartbeat, the lyric aligns with her longing. What Becky Hill recalls is the universal awakening of youth—the realization that art is not distant, but profoundly personal. To the young, music becomes a mirror, showing them not the world outside, but the vast, mysterious world within.

This truth teaches us that no one is alone in their joy or sorrow. When you feel as though a song was written just for you, know that countless others, across cities and nations, feel the same. The power of art is not in isolating one experience, but in uniting humanity through a single thread of emotion. Your laughter, your heartbreak, your first steps into the dance of love—all of these are part of a chorus sung across the ages. What feels uniquely yours is also universally ours.

Let this knowledge free you from loneliness. When a lyric grips your heart, understand that it ties you to the countless souls who walk this earth beside you. When you hear the echo of your own story in the melody of another, know that you are joined in an eternal fellowship of feeling. This is the true gift of music—it does not merely entertain, it connects, it heals, it reminds us that to be human is to share one song in many voices.

Therefore, beloved, take up the practice of listening deeply. Do not let songs be only noise upon the air. When you hear a melody that stirs you, pause, close your eyes, and let it teach you what lies hidden in your own heart. When you find strength in a lyric, let it guide your steps. When you find comfort in a chorus, let it remind you that you are not alone in the vastness of life. In this way, as Becky Hill discovered in her youth, you too will feel that the artists of the world are writing not for strangers, but for you—that in music, your own story of love is sung back to you like an echo from eternity.