Objectively speaking, 1989’s Disintegration is The Cure’s best album, a universal truth that all can acknowledge. It’s a massive recording that effortlessly blends The Cure’s various sonic aspects into a singular and majestic work of art that will forever stand the test of time. But as much as I love and respect Disintegration, Wish was my very first Cure album, and as such, occupies a special place in my heart.

I was really only familiar with “Friday I’m in Love” when my friend Leah gave me a copy of Wish that she’d dubbed onto a black cassette for my 16th birthday. I listened to that cassette, which also contained several B-sides including “The Big Hand” and “This Twilight Garden” (my all-time favorite Cure song), nearly every day on the bus to and from school.

Songs like “Apart,” “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea,” and “A Letter to Elise” struck a chord deep within my angst-ridden high schooler’s heart with a depth and intensity that no other band could match. Thus, when Robert Smith sang “The way the rain comes down hard/That’s how I feel inside” (“Open”) or “I think I’ve reached that point/Where giving up and going on/Are both the same dead end to me/Are both the same old song” (“End”), my 16-year-old self knew exactly what he meant.

When Trent Reznor inducted The Cure into the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, he gave one of the best possible descriptions of the band’s music: “It was like this music was written just for me. I struggled my whole life feeling that I don’t fit in or belong anywhere… Hearing this, suddenly I felt connected, no longer quite so alone… [It’s] a custom world made for anyone who has ever dreamed of escape.” Wish provided a much-needed escape during those tumultuous high school years. True, all of the album’s darkness and angst allowed me to mope to my heart’s content, but they also provided me with life, light, understanding, and beauty.

As for Leah’s black cassette, I still have it tucked away in my office, a reminder of a more innocent time and a memento for a dearly departed friend.