Okay, so I will admit something terrible here. I'm not a fan of Taylor Swift, rather I wasn't. For years I mocked her openly on Twitter, said the snarkiest things about her lyrics. And it always ended with something along the lines of, "Why is she being so terrible?"
She says snotty things about those who have wronged her, shares details about these guys who have stomped on her heart. And she sets them to a beat we can dance to swearing she's getting over it. And for years I was like, "She's the devil."
I almost got jumped in Disney World once for sharing such an insight. And I was like why is this herd of forty something year-old women looking at me like they want to hurt me? People who love Taylor Swift really love her. And they will defend her in her laments of the jerk sandwiches who have done her wrong. She is from what I have read a pretty cool lady in real life, doing nice things for those in need, helping out the hurting masses of lonely hearts out in the world. But for years I thumbed my nose at her songs of emotional turmoil and revenge. Until all of a sudden I got it. Right in the kisser.
I get it Tay Tay.
Getting hurt really sucks.
It leaves an indelible mark on whoever has the misfortune to experience it. And we all do. At one time or another we all get our own taste of "Bad Blood." We all get stuck like a voodoo doll at one point in our life and lay like slugs eating double-fudge chocolate ice cream with a tub of cookie dough crumbled up on top.
Hypothetically.
We have all had our guts ripped out by someone we thought cared or have have been blindsided by a friend. We've all taken that trust fall where no one was there to catch us. And it leaves us battered and bruised. Maybe I didn't see it. Maybe I was too busy being an insensitive horse's ass to see that we all have heartache and that getting through it is a different process for everyone. T Swift just sets hers to music.
When I'm hurting, I'm a horrible person. I say terrible things and eat everything. Or worse, forget to eat and turn into one of those Snickers bar commercials. Only I don't turn into something amusing. I turn into Linda Blair in the Exorcist. Meanwhile, I just read this morning that even with the recent split with Calvin Harris, Taylor Swift took time from her aching life to sing at the wedding of a girl who had recently lost her mother. She didn't sit around listening to emo music while deep frying all of Mr. Harris's belongings (I'm guessing.) She went and did a good deed.
But as we speak, folks who fancy themselves internet comedians will take to their Twitter pulpits to preach vitriol against Miss Tay Tay in the wake of her newest break-up. Daggers are being sharpened to throw at the girl we love to watch suffer after a heartbreak sets in. As she licks the wounds of yet another failed romance, the hyenas are getting ready to pounce. I know it. I was one of them.
But I'm a hyena reformed.
Listen Tay, can I call you Tay? I understand it now completely. Healing is a process. Crappy people make us feel terrible and getting them out of our systems is like expelling a demon. Some folks eat. Some scream. Some...cough cough...write. Others sing. And make others feel like they are not alone while they do it. So, um. I get it. And eh, thanks for putting your heart out there.
While I'm not necessarily buying your albums, (I'm an indie girl at heart) I get you. And where you are coming from.
You go do you.