It happens to the best of us. We hear a song for the first time. Jaw hits floor. Push 'repeat'. It's in your headphones every morning on your commute to work. Can't start the day without it. On loop in your head for weeks. The song speaks to you in a way that you can't fully explain, but you feel under your skin. And the past year or so has been a pretty good year for songs like that. I'd be worried if you didn't find yourself over-the-moon obsessed with one track or another recently.

But have you ever given thought to exactly what that song says about you? Sure, some choices are obvious. Bon Iver after a breakup. Robyn in anticipation of a dance party. But some of the choices we make can't be categorized quite so easily. Maybe nothing in particular is happening in your life at all. And yet, you've got that jam on incessant loop. Those moments are much more telling than that time you racked up 300 listens of 'Skinny Love' when your girlfriend abruptly moved to Portland. Let's explore them, shall we?

'Brain', Banks: you are an insecure flower with a dark, sexy underside waiting to be unleashed.

'Riptide', Vance Joy: you liked Mumford & Sons 'before they were big', hate them for their ubiquity, but OH! that banjo sound.

'Shades of Cool', Lana Del Rey: seek professional help.

'Retrograde', James Blake: ain't nothin' wrong with you, kid.

'Coffee', Sylvan Esso: you appreciate the delicate things in life: soft touches and lilting voices. Still like to boogie.

'Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High', Arctic Monkeys: find another girl, dude.

'Drunk in Love', Beyonce: you are filthy and don't care who knows it. You've tried to ride a half filled tub with your surfbordt. It did not go so well.

'Fancy', Iggy Azalea/Charli XCX: you are either under the age of 25 or unconscionably annoying. Maybe both. Also, you have insta-colored glasses on at all times.

'Let it Go', Idina Menzel: dear God, just let it go already!

'Happy', Pharrell Williams: you are desperately clinging to that song title, dancing alone in your bedroom with a clown-like grin on your face. "Cause I'm happyyyyy..." You are terrifying.

Music preference and obsession is a deeply personal thing. One man's trash, etc. What a beautiful world in which we live where Lana Del Rey and Iggy Azalea can exist in the same space. I welcome, nay celebrate, diversity in sound and meaning. But the next time you blurt out your obsessive love for the new hotness, just remember: that shit is telling.