1993 aka How Taylor Swift is finally writing music for me again

I was introduced to Taylor Swift when I was 15. The first time I heard Fearless, I was in love with the idea of love. She sang of crushes and being crushed by boys who are just as immature as the boys I was dealing with. Is staring at pictures and having pointless conversations part of the same experience? Maybe. I wanted to fall in love with my best friend. I was a child. That’s about it.

Over the next four years, I found myself more disillusioned and disconnected with her songs, lyrically. Sure, I had them on my playlist. But, it was more like the French fries after the gourmet burgers I was consuming. They were comforting, but who makes a meal out of French fries? We try, but we cannot. Speak Now was drab except during that one December of immense heartbreak. Red was still better with a few great vocal collaborations with Gary Lightbody and Ed Sheeran. But, I didn’t think I could feel as much.

At the same time, I was in love. Fell in and out of it with different versions of the same person, over and over. That’s the beauty of love. It evolves. I didn’t have anyone talking about that to me. I felt stupid on most days speaking of pointless pursuits, but I wanted someone to understand.

Over those four years, I got jaded. My ideals are the same. But, I am not as surprised when my heart breaks. In fact, sometimes, I probably invite the sort of heart break I have been subject to in the past two years, at least. I am tired of people wondering why I haven’t dated and met people yet. Please, I don’t think I need to lower my standards to experience anything. When I did, I chose to. That was a brilliant mistake, a little like her Wildest Dreams. But, I am not doing it again. I will probably go back to the same track I walked on, stray back to it and fall for the same person I did when I was a child and it will be different like every time. We will probably hate ourselves for it, but that’s not changing how I feel just yet. I will put those feelings aside for Style and my diary.

I have a Blank Space in my fantasies right now. That pen click every time I see someone remotely beautiful in sight is going to be a trend till that is filled. But, I am older now. I don’t know if I want to bother making myself go through the same rut I did for four years. I would love to shake this off, pick up the next book on my shelf and take a good read and move on. I want to see new places, love new faces and drown in the twenties. The glorious, highly overrated mess of a decade that I awkwardly side-hug and tell myself this is just temporary.

I have always been a strange romantic. I don’t believe in soul mates. I don’t believe in fairy tales and would be sorely disappointed with life if it handed me one. I’d rather suffer a little to enjoy the real deal at the end. That’s the thing with this album. It’s embracing the sort of heartbreak we need so that we can live to have stories to tell. This sort of heartbreak will roll its eyes at you and ask you to pick yourself up and dance. If you see me tearing up after a Meg Ryan movie, I won’t hide my face. But, don’t think I will fall that soon. I have just learnt to enjoy a dip in the shallow end instead of drowning and struggling to breathe every time I see you.

I am not friends with the person who introduced me to Taylor. But, I won’t be writing about that. Thank God.