playlist to my life- Taylor's version

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/16ZvsYNTvDnqaL6JON6JOz?si=77fc5b913f1849bd

Epiphany – Folklore

“Hold your hand through plastic now. Doc, I think she’s crashing out!”

I am home, I thought. And stopped and wondered at the thought. I am born, or so I was told. Are there particular stories that end as they began: alone? The song begins as I imagine life does: innocent, hazy, a lullaby that feels familiar yet you can’t remember. I imagine the music through my mother’s experience and the details she’s told me; feeling through her solitude, fear, depression, and regret, that her daughters will recognize one day. The shame that children carry, knowing that if their parents could, they would’ve chosen differently. And that’s a weight no person should carry: finding reasons to live when your creators can’t summarize the justice in your existence.

In a hospital bed, bleeding alone, while the staff is on another floor, tending to an emergency. Meanwhile, your screams keep you company, echoing the halls of flickering bulbs, where other women feel your pain. Keeping your legs as tightly closed as you can, even though the resistance hurts more than the submission. This isn’t how your head played it out; this tennis tournament of certainty and doubt. “I’m certain that I can push through this feat. What I cannot fathom, is the weight of responsibility. I’ve done this marathon before: once for marital insurance, twice to prove the first wasn’t a mistake. Now the third comes along, and I wonder if I can do more than just love. Can I be her champion, and if so, what will I be celebrating: my successes or her failings? The birth of one innocent being, or in my case three, decays the foundation upon which women dream. The price was life, and the cost was mine.

It’s nice to have a friend – Lover

“Light pink sky up on the roof. Sun sinks down, no curfew”

My infancy and early childhood encapsulated the feeling of cotton candy: sweet, light-hearted, and full of cavities. The guiltless bliss of sleeping in, with no responsibilities or fear of consequence. My earliest memories are full of chalk dust: hazy but colorful. My first lipstick shade was a popsicle of cherry limeade and my first taste of wine came in the form of a box and a bendy straw. What’s regarded as sinful and indulgent as an adult, was once seen as something endearing enough to take a photo of. Dorothy made quite the impression because I still sing of rainbows after every thunderstorm. Ariel left a mark on my youth because now I dream of being the mermaid she was escaping from. And Barbie still manages to imprint my life with bittersweet nostalgia and modern interpretations. Whatever breadcrumbs of innocence I salvaged from infancy into adulthood, is played in this song.

Mean – Speak Now

“I bet you got pushed around. Somebody made you cold, but the cycle ends right now”

This song speaks to me now, in a way it never did before. I’ve dealt with my fair share of bullies, ranging from classmates to family members, from neglected children to narcissistic parents.

Ironically my childhood bully was friends with my best friend and a toxic triangle of favoritism and switching sides was formed. I was nicknamed “The Grudge” for my long black hair and dark circle and “The Witch” for my unibrow and prominent chin mole. This led to me shaving my eyebrows incorrectly with a razor and looking into mole removal surgeries. Fortunately, with evolving beauty standards and higher self-esteem, I’ve embraced my notable features, but the struggle and criticism was fucking brutal. Sometimes the worst kind of bully is the one we become to ourselves: our shadow side, our insecurities staring back in the mirror. Or, the worst kind of bully is the one who presents themselves as a friend or even a family member. Sometimes isn’t a slap to the face or a knife in the wound but a tiny needle that pokes you with each incessant snide comment. This song screams: “I’m not a pincushion or a sharpening stone.” The cycle of becoming the worst parts people point out about me ends. The cycle of repeating self-limiting beliefs ends. The cycle of positive affirmations and mantras begins with this song

Fifteen – Fearless

“When all you wanted was to be wanted. Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now”

I didn’t know it at fifteen. I didn’t know my fascination with a certain pop star would become an obsession. I didn’t know that my crash diet would become one of my closet skeletons. I didn’t know that the thigh-gap fixation was just a cover-up for my real demons. I didn’t know that sick people could still have habits. I didn’t know that my restless nights and my late mornings were a sign of depression. I didn’t know that skipping meals and showers were yield signs of oncoming danger.

I didn’t know that starving your body included your teeth decaying. I didn’t know that the dentists could tell it through my braces. I didn’t know that procrastination was a sign of anxiety and not a lack of passion. I didn’t know that being lazy meant being burnt out and not uninterested. I didn’t know that going six months without having my period, was a stop sign for an oncoming collision. I didn’t know that mindless phone scrolling, finger scratching, and hair pulling were forms of self-harm. I didn't know that sharing my troubled thoughts would land me in a psychiatric ward. I didn’t know how much I’d miss home, until in a foreign environment, toxic felt like home. I didn’t know that my classmates couldn’t my thoughts and thought the same of me. I didn’t know that the hustling to the finish line wasn’t the end. I didn’t know that the light at the end of the tunnel was real. I didn’t know that the tunnel made a U-turn because of my self-doubt. I didn’t know that hope could be so fickle. I didn’t know that after those four years in Limbo, I’d be stuck here, replaying those moments, wishing I had been braver to move on. I didn’t know how quiet loneliness could be until I graduated, and I had no one to be and nowhere to go. I didn’t foresee these tragedies when I was imagining my high school memories. If I could tell myself what I know now: “The days are long, but the years are short. Take the long way home and enjoy the show.” I didn’t know it at fifteen.

Enchanted – Speak Now

“I'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone”

What can be said about your first crush, your first love: imaginary. I’ve had better romances in my head than in real life. I’ve dated more fictional characters than I have real people. I’m somebody who becomes enchanted with the ideas of love and romance. I’ve created whole sonatas and scenarios in my head of somebody who doesn’t even exist. Not somebody of flesh or of bone, but of cloud matter and marshmallow fluff. I set certain expectations of what my ideal partner is, and yet the first person to show interest in me, I’m tempted to drop the whole world and succumb to my feet. The pheromonic cocktail of emotions that flood my circuits: dopamine, oxytocin, or as I like to say, “the poisons of love.” My judgment impaired, and my feelings swayed, against any modicum logic or reason, I am taken under the spell of love. I am an old romantic, and my ruin is covered in specs of stardust.

Tied together with a smile – Taylor Swift

“I guess it's true that love was all you wanted. 'Cause you're givin' it away like it's extra change,

hoping it will end up in his pocket.”

I bake cakes, and you give me breadcrumbs. I fold your laundry, and I wear your coffee stains. I lug your baggage as if it belongs in my closet. I knit you a sweater and throw it in the garbage chute, ‘cause you’ve convinced me that I’m a washing machine, and the rinse cycle is my specialty.

I’ve had the bad habit of self-sabotaging, self-deprecating. Notice how they all begin with the word “self?” I guess it’s true what they say: it all begins with yourself. Recognizing patterns, breaking rinsing cycles, and running out of order for folks who want your fabric softener. I should’ve said it sooner instead of pretending like it was okay. But here I am years later, and I give away my chances like they’re extra change.

This is me trying – Folklore

“I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. Fell behind all my classmates, and I ended up here.”

If somebody asked me “Explain what recovering from depression feels like, in 3 minutes and 15 seconds,” I would recommend this song. Unfortunately, this album came out after I graduated high school, and I instead had the habit of listening to songs that enabled my demons, rather than uplifting them. Regardless, my fears and anxieties of failing high school due to mental health issues, are summarized within the liberating confinement of only 3 minutes, in this song. Thankfully, I graduated due to extra credit from the college courses that crushed my sanity into pieces. And it’s ironic actually. How I was under the pretense that by sacrificing my health, happiness, and sanity for four years, I could rest for the years that came after. And I have. But not quite in the way you think. My mental health became so fragile by the time of college freshman season, that I ended up not going to college, due to the pressure and other personal factors. There aren’t many days that go by without my thinking about if those four years of my life were a precious waste. Or if my depression was always dormant, and all it took was the stress of a few all-nighters and recommendation letters, to trigger it. Recovering my mental health has been a slippery slope, to say the least, and this is my comfort song for when I’m trying to take it easier on myself.

Tolerate it – Evermore

“I made you my temple, my mural, my sky. Now I’m begging for footnotes, in the story of your life.”

If you’ve ever wondered if you’ve been a victim of narcissistic abuse, I highly recommend listening to this song for confirmation. Sometimes it isn’t a therapist that confirms our deepest fears. Sometimes a horrible realization comes in the form of a melancholy song. You begin to hum the melody and sing the lyrics, and before you know it, you realize Taylor Swift has narrated your life. Consider it half an honor and half a burden. The detail in which she describes the one-sidedness in my familial relationships. The embarrassing amount of effort we put into barren relationships; wrapping things with tin foil and expecting silver. Working ourselves up into leaving, only to have years go on by, wondering if not now, then when?

Death By a Thousand Cuts – Lover

“My time, my wine, my spirit, my trust. Trying to find a part of me you didn't take up”

A follow-up to the last song. After the sadness, comes the anger. A deep blue to a vibrant red. The bruises went from purple to black. And the wounds you thought healed, are now reopened to a new gruesome truth. The two main types of narcissists are overt and covert. I prefer to describe the former as a benign cyst that, once removed, leaves a scar, but at least it’s gone. The latter is a more malignant tumor, which takes away a huge chunk of you. And even then, you can feel it still lingering in your nervous twitch, your scalp itch, your incensed blood, and the space your identity used to take up. When or if it ever ends, you’re left with the skin on your body, the doubts in your head, and the echo of a person you once confided in as a trusted friend. And after you’ve crawled away, you’re yet to learn the meaning of pain, until you use hand sanitizer, and discover all the paper cuts they left in memory of them.

Anti-Hero – Midnights

“I'll stare directly at the sun, but never in the mirror.”

If you’ve ever had a failed confrontation with a narcissist, you’ll leave wondering “Am I the problem?”

The only type of conversation you can have with a narcissist is one that involves walking on eggshells. Eventually, eggshells make you into an assassin of sorts. Tiptoeing around bomb fields, acting as if the floor is made of lava, and even then, you’re left wondering, “Am I the culprit?”

You can only run into walls so many times before you become one. And you can only fight with a spitting cobra so much until you adopt snakeskin and a higher tolerance for poison. Plot twist: you’re your own poison and your own antidote.

Right Where You Left Me – Evermore

“Did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? Time went on for everybody else, she won't know it.

She's still 23 inside her fantasy”

It’s uncanny how I’m actually 23 years old, and in the song, she sings of being 23. And what’s more riveting, is the truths she tells in the song. Madness is repeating the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results. You think you’ve changed, that your life is heading somewhere. And somehow, you back to where you began. It seems those steps forward were imaginary, and all this time, I was playing hopscotch inside my head. How infuriating. How mocking. My mind plays tricks on me. Since when did my life become a chessboard game? The question is “Who’s moving me?”

My life’s been a broken record. At least I’m glad it’s a Taylor Swift one.

My Tears Ricochet – Folklore

“And I can go anywhere I want. Anywhere I want, just not home.”

With this song, comes the realization, that home never felt like home. I’ve found more home in songs and sonnets than within these four walls. I’ve slept better at friends' houses than at this one. I’ve painted roofs brighter than the one over my head at present. And my pillow never felt so hard as when I laid down on it night. Who knew the streets were more welcoming than you? My wild spirit was never one to be tamed, and my needs would never be met as long as I stayed. I’m a traveler searching for home; anywhere but here.

You’re On Your Own Kid – Midnights

“I didn't choose this town. I dream of getting out”

I’m currently in this phase in life. Letting go of the old and starting anew. A small-town girl in a big city. I’m a pearl and the world is my oyster. Whatever I’ve lost is water weight, and I’m a feather floating to my destiny. She lost them, but she found herself, and somehow, that was everything.