You don't know me, but I know you.

I first discovered your music on a cool, lonely summer night, and it was the answer to a prayer I never had the courage to make. With every rhythm, I could feel my heart beat in sync, a melody to match the consuming feelings I had been drowning in for months, even years.

Your music rested with me in the depths of despair for those few months, a storm cloud suspended above my head and a crushing weight on my chest. I was no longer alone on those chilled and melancholy nights, my headphones were in and you were blasting.

I often felt a connection to you that was unlike anything I had felt for other artists. It was like I somehow knew you from somewhere as if we were partners in crime in another dimension. In some unimaginable and odd way, I knew if we ever crossed paths, it would be a miracle surpassing all others.

Your music became more than music to me, it became a soundtrack serving as the foundation for my life, the beat of a drum soothing my heartache and your haunting voice speaking for mine.

You don't know me, but I found comfort and community in your music.

When I wanted nothing more than to wrap myself up in a blanket, turn off the lights and be by lonesome self, your music was the cocoon that I concealed myself within.

I eventually found that your other loyal fans felt similarly to how I did, and my heart grew fuller with the knowledge that I wasn't the only one who had found solace in your refrains. I found others who knew every word to every song and had no fear or shame in admitting it, others who used your music as a security blanket when anxiety and sadness felt that they would swallow us whole.

You don't know me, but I adore you.

When those dark months faded into the past, your songs remained prevalent in my mind. I still listened to them daily, reminders of the rough days and hope for the future. I drained my wallet dry and filled my closet with your merchandise and your albums, and regretted none of it.

Sometimes, the inky, billowing clouds return to visit for a few hours, so I return to your music just like I did before. It's my drug, my addiction, and my savior.

You don't know me, but I want to thank you.

You put words to the emotions I was experiencing, you flawlessly described the life I was living and the way it altered every aspect of me and the people and events I witnessed and interacted with daily. You don't even know I exist, but you saved my life, without a single doubt.

You don't know me, but perhaps one day, you will.