Dear whoever is reading this: I wish you a life full of warmth and happiness and love. I hope you’re okay. And if you aren’t now, you will be.
If this is how we are now, I do not think we will survive Better Than Revenge TV.
it’s so wild to me that, despite being one of the most aggressively straightforward and radically honest artists of our time, taylor is perhaps the most deeply and frequently misunderstood
"old taylors" standing trapped behind a glass cage while she stands in front of them and performs is high-key giving he's got my past frozen behind glass. but i've got me. im shaking
somebody hold me
how is taylor serving wonder woman, country legend, wood nymph, and sexy bad bitch in the same show without it feeling even remotely disjointed
Anonymous asked:
"blond women are the death of art" *is a taylor swift stan*
The things you don't understand about being a swiftie could fill the library of Congress
Bitches will be like I’m fine and then see a video of a global superstar spinning while playing a guitar and burst into tears it’s me I’m bitches
girl who loves her friends so much but is so bad and awful at messaging them back for some reason even though she really really wants to talk to them
i wish i could say “?????????????????” in real life. it would be very useful.
when people kinda disappear from tumblr that means they’re either doing really well or really bad
nobody is irrelevant. nobody is invisible. your neighbors know your name and see you set off to school or work or the backyard everyday, sometimes with a spring in your step and sometimes with hunched over shoulders. there was this one time some stranger pointed you out to their friends and said “that’s the haircut I want” or “I have that shirt, too” or “they go to my school”. someone has admired the way you carry yourself or gave a presentation or even the way you’re so polite when you first meet a person. you’ve made comments or jokes that have stuck in minds of overhearers and eavesdroppers. when old classmates of yours think back to kindergarten or fourth grade or sophomore year they remember you and have an opinion of you. you’ve made recommendations of songs and restaurants and even cookie brands and actually introduced people to their all-time favorites. the cashier at the grocery store knows exactly what laundry detergent your household uses, or even if you don’t do your laundry at all.
you can never be irrelevant. there’s pieces of you everywhere, in a dozen lives, in a hundred dreams, in a million memories. maybe it’s true that you don’t have any friends, and you have a sucky relationship with your family or no family at all and no-one ever checks up on you, and you’re really very lonely, but that doesn’t determine your worth. you do. and so do the billions of small attributions you’ve already made to the world, both long-term and short-term. so thank you.
im not betty, james, august, dorothea, or the narrator of tis the damn season. im the guy from bejewled who told taylor her aura was moonstone because he was high
