Annabel sat on the bumpy dorm room bed with her legs loosely crossed in a limp pretzel formation as she rested her round chin on a stuffed gorilla she had laying up against the wall. She squeezed the soft animal in her arms a little harder, as if tightening her hold around it would eventually force the lifeless plush to reciprocate the gesture. But alas, the embrace was not returned. Sitting next to her was her cracked phone playing music from a playlist that was titled with a sad face emoji. She wondered why people had a tendency to listen to "sad" songs when they were already sad. Didn't that just reinforce and exacerbate the sadness? Why didn't people listen to "happy" music so that they might feel better? She let the thought float inside her mind for a moment or two before deciding that the former was better. If, at this very moment, her suitemate Caroline had started blasting "Everything is Awesome" from "The Lego Movie," which would undoubtedly echo through the walls of their shared bathroom (as she had the daily routine of doing when she showered), Annabel would probably have an aneurysm. And so she concluded that perhaps people didn't listen to sad music to feel better or worse but that it was simply better than being flooded with overzealous lyrics about how great life was when clearly it was not. She may still be sad but at least her arteries would remain intact.