Okay. Imagine this: you're driving home alone at night, half crying, half romanticizing your pain like the main character you obviously are. The moon's out, your playlist is sad-girl certified, and then “Lamb” by Zoe Bayani hits your speakers. Suddenly, you're not in your car anymore. You’re in a candlelit cathedral, staring down a 15th-century altarpiece, realizing you are the sacrificial lamb. Yeah. It’s that dramatic. And it’s perfect.

It’s 10 a.m. in my apartment, there’s three empty coffee mugs on the table, and I’m listening to Rae Isla’s new song “Years, Beers, Her Tears” for the fourth time in a row. I’m not okay, and that’s exactly the point.

It’s 10 a.m. in my apartment, there’s three empty coffee mugs on the table, and I’m listening to Rae Isla’s new song “Years, Beers, Her Tears” for the fourth time in a row. I’m not okay, and that’s exactly the point.