Titanium - Sia

The song does not make me bulletproof. It reminds me I am recoverable.

I do not listen to Sia's “Titanium” because I believe criticism cannot hurt me. That would be an unusual conclusion for a person who can remember the exact temperature of a sentence somebody threw at him thirty-seven years ago.

I listen because hype songs are not sworn testimony. They are temporary operating systems.

For a few minutes, the song changes the available instructions. The incoming noise may be loud without saying much. The criticism may carry force without carrying truth. Somebody can take aim, deliver their verdict, and still fail to decide what happens next.

attack > impact > assessment > recovery > return

That is the part I need. Not the fantasy that nothing reaches me, but the reminder that being reached is not the same as being finished. Titanium is not numbness. It is structure under pressure.

There are mornings when confidence arrives naturally. There are other mornings when it needs to be borrowed from a chorus, carried into the shower, and returned after the first meeting. That is not fake confidence. It is scaffolding. The song holds the shape until I can hold it myself.

The ricochet matters too. Every criticism does not deserve permanent lodging. Some comments arrive with volume, authority, and excellent posture but no useful information. They hit the surface, make a dramatic sound, and continue traveling. My responsibility is not to absorb everything merely because somebody fired it.

I can examine the impact without granting the shooter ownership of the material.

That may be why “Titanium” works so well as a hype song. It does not ask me to become colder. It gives the feeling a harder frame. The emotion stays. The body wakes up. The next move becomes available.

I am not bulletproof. I have been hurt, changed, and frequently flattened.

But I get up.

For three minutes and forty seconds, I remember what I am made of.