Featured Image by Jr Korpa on Unsplash

For those who may know me well, I’ve always believed that certain songs don’t just sound beautiful—they feel like they were written from inside your own heart. After having the fortune to see Linkin Park last week (oh god, has it been a week already?!?), there was a song that really caught my ear. The melody and tempo just got their hooks into me, and it hasn’t let go since.

That song? The Emptiness Machine.

I’ve listened to it a number of times since then, and I just could not figure out why I kept coming back to it. That is, until recently, when I had an opportunity to really look more at the lyrics. Once I did, it was certainly one of those duh moments. It probably won’t surprise anyone who knows me well knows that I’m hyper-empathic.. Check out some of these lines:

”Gave up who I am for who you wanted me to be.”

This line felt all too real. It was like being called out for something I had never fully admitted aloud. It gave me reflection: I’ve spent a lot of my life adapting—shifting, softening, making myself more “likable” for others. More often than not, it wasn’t even conscious on my part. But looking back, there were so many times I traded parts of myself for peace, or to avoid disappointing someone. That line caught all of that about me—in just twelve words.

And then, there’s this chorus line:

”Fallin’ for the promise of the emptiness machine.”

For me, the “machine” feels like the system of expectations that reward you for showing up with a smile, being dependable, and pushing through—even if inside you’re quietly crumbling. Don’t get me wrong, there’s definitely a comfort in being needed. But sometimes, that comfort costs you something. Little by little, you start to forget what you actually want. You become the machine: reliable, helpful, present, dependable—but emotionally, worn thin. Most times, it goes completely unnoticed. Not because people don’t care, but because you’ve become so good at hiding it.

The line that really hit me?

”I only wanted to be part of something.”

What a simple line, but at the same time, it’s so human and complex. You know what I’m talking about, the desire to belong, to be known, not just what you do for others—but for who you are underneath it all. That longing, that desire to be part of something, has followed me for a long time, even when I didn’t have the exact words for it.

Thinking back to hearing that song live, amongst others who may have been feeling the same things as me—that was a moment. To be seen, even in darkness. A very rare reminder that I’m not alone in feeling that way—and neither are you.

If you have ever felt like that, like a piece in someone else’s machine, or that you’ve lost yourself trying to be who the world told you to be—this song, and this moment, is for you too.

I see you. 

You’re not too much. 
You’re not broken. 
And just as I’m learning it more for myself—
your real self is worth bringing to the surface. 

It’s okay to stop.
It’s okay to breathe.

You’re not the emptiness machine. 
You never were.

-Terry