We all think of ourselves as wonderful, unique, magical individuals, but that uniqueness is created by pieces we’ve inherited from other people.

For example, most people I know think of me as that “Barenaked Ladies guy.” I’ve been obsessed with the band for nearly two decades. They make up 50-60% of my music consumption. BNL is a huge part of my identity, but I inherited it from somebody else.

My first girlfriend wasn’t a very nice person. She cheated on me several times. She abused me. She even stabbed me in the arm with a nail file one time out of nowhere when she was driving me around. She gave me a host of personal issues to work through, but she also gave me a gift.

One summer day, she asked me if I could download the album Stunt for her. She’d loved One Week and It’s All Been Done, and wanted to dig deeper. I downloaded the album, not easy pre-Napster, made a copy, and brought it over to her house. I kept the original copy on my home computer, but never really listened to it.

Months passed, and with the help of some friends, I realized how caustic the relationship was and ended it. In the aftermath, I felt guilty, even though I shouldn’t have. I spent a lot of time by myself, listening to music and writing crappy poetry.

One day, I decided to play that BNL album I still had laying around on my desktop. Once I made it through the first couple of tracks, the lyrics started pounding me right in the gut. It was like these five Canadian geeks were following me around, documenting the complicated feelings I had churning inside me.

I fell in love with the band and quickly created a fraudulent BMG Music Service account so I could order their entire back catalog at $0.01 per album. Within months, I became known as the “Barenaked Ladies guy.” I was obsessed. I still am, all these years later.

That relationship made me cautious in life and in love. I held friends at an arm’s length. I couldn’t trust anybody for a long time. Lots of issues, but I’ve spent most of my adult life fixing them. Two decades on, I’ve forgiven my ex-girlfriend. For all the pain she caused me, she gave me Barenaked Ladies, whose music has helped me get through some of the toughest moments in my life.

We’re all the sum of the pieces we received from other people, every one a precious gem you carry with you forever. Most fit there naturally… Square peg meets square hole. Others are tethered there by scar tissue and blood and tears. No matter their source, the pieces of others you carry with you all add up to the wonderful, unique, magical person you are.