After the media slandered her name for decades, Taylor Allison Swift decides to tell her story herself. In this fictional biography, we will delve into her life, career, and her truest desires.
author's note: this book is heavily inspired by The Sev...
"Taylor, you're on in five!" Someone yells across the doorway to my dressing room.
Looking in the mirror, I see all my imperfections and folded skin around my eyes. It's hard to say that my seventy-four years of living have treated me kindly; it hasn't. But all I can do is keep my painted face up and show the people a smile, even if it's fake.
I walk onto the brightly lit stage with the reporter reading his queue cards and chaos roaring behind the cameras. People are yelling, and mic chords are thrown around. An employee walked up to me to put a mic under my shirt, and he stood there a little too long, looking at me a little too closely, touching me in ways I didn't ask to be touched. I chose to pick my battles wisely a long time ago and not say anything unless I felt threatened. Sure, it's not the best for me or, in fact, any other woman, but at least it kept my name out of the paper.
As soon as I sat down, the room became silent. I took a deep breath, and I felt calm for the first time since I'd been here. That is until the reporter opened his mouth.
"3... 2... 1..."
"Good Morning Nashville! Taylor Swift is here with us to answer questions that have been unanswered for decades."
And just like that, I was pushed into the world for them to see without asking how I felt. I was taken out of my calmness.
"So, Taylor, how have you been since Taylor Lautner's passing? I assume you must be heartbroken since you two appeared close to each other in the media." He asked with fake sincerity that you could smell from a mile away.
"Well, yes, obviously, I'm devastated. He was one of my dear friends that-" He interrupted me before I even got to answer his question.
"Yes, we saw in late 2026 that he attended your wedding with Mr. Travis Kelce in London. It's a beautiful venue, by the way! We also saw Harry Styles present. I always thought it interesting that you invited two ex-boyfriends to your wedding. I'm sure the people at home also think that." He barely makes eye contact while saying nonsense and smiling at the camera.
"That was decades ago..." I tried to think of his name, but I'm not sure he ever told me; maybe I forgot to ask.
"Yes, but the viewers wonder if Harry Styles or Taylor Lautner were so important to you, then why did you end up with a washed-up football player like Travis Kelce?" He asks as if that was a respectable, appropriate question to ask.
I think it took everything inside of me not to erupt in front of every single camera in this damn studio. But then I remembered that it was exactly what they wanted. They want me to make a fool of myself and ruin my reputation... again. I should have known they would get their front-page tabloid if I answered their questions.
"Excuse me, I'll be right back," I smile and immediately remove my microphone. I've had my fair share of rude interviews, but this one takes the cake. My assistant comes walking towards me, asking where I'm going as if she doesn't already know.
"Just to the bathroom. Tell them I'll be right back!" Lucy is lovely, but I have never met anyone more clueless than her.
I make my way through the corridor and lock the door to the bathroom. I see myself in the mirror again, and a tear on my face. I wiped it away faster than it came down and took a deep breath.
And then it hit me—I knew what I had to do. I began to pull my heels off and open the main window. I lifted the glass to reveal the fresh air blowing in my face, and for once, I could finally breathe again.
Leg after leg, I crawl out the window with no hesitation. I know I have to get the hell out of here. After my feet hit the hard pavement, I began to put my shoes back on, but I heard a high-pitched voice from behind me.
"Is that Taylor Swift, mom?"
I see a teenage girl with her mother walking a dog. She seems to be wearing one of those folklore cardigans. Do people still wear those? I guess it's vintage now.
Before me and the girl's mother could make eye contact, I started speed walking to the sidewalk to call over a taxi. All I need right now is to take my hair down and see my Travis.
My Travis.
It's funny because when I first met Travis, I wasn't going to give him the time of day. I wasn't going to give my soulmate the time of day. Can you believe that?
I finally got a taxi driver's attention and hopped into the cab. I need to get out of here. Away from my anxiety, away from my fears, and away from the people who only view me as money in their pockets.
After about ten minutes of driving, we arrive at my Nashville home, with willow trees blowing in the breeze and acres of land blocking me from the public.
I thank the man who drove me and paid him well. On the way over here, he told me a little about himself, and so did I. His name was Samuel, and today was his tenth wedding anniversary with his wife, Marie. I advised him to make it special in only a way she would understand. That's what Travis did with me, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm greeted by our large Dalmatian, whom Travis named Benny. He is a sweet dog, and after Meredith Grey, Olivia Benson, and Benjamin Button passed, he and Travis are the only things keeping me sane. I swear I rarely got over the days when they died; all I did was cry, sleep, and repeat. All three of them in the same year; I never prepared myself for it to happen, and it hit me like a truck. But that was years ago, and though I don't think I will ever get completely over it, each day is a little more leisurely.
I walked to the kitchen, and I saw a note on the marble counter that seemed to be my husband's handwriting.
"I'll be back soon. I went to the store! Love, Trav."
It's hard to acknowledge that Travis has a life without me by his side. A simple task like going to the grocery store makes me miss him, and I can't stand being in this lonely house. I can't stand people judging me and trying to wedge their way into my personal life. Even after all these years, when there have been so many more "Taylor Swifts," they still would do anything to tear me bit by bit.
I'm tired of the lies and the fools who believe them. I'm tired of the media telling me who I am and will never be. I'm tired of never being good enough for people to see the love in my heart and the reasons behind my actions. You would think, after decades of being scrutinized and slut-shamed, that I would be unbothered by the allegations. However, sadly, it still hits me the same way as when I was 16 trying to get a record deal, or when I was in my late 20s when the rights to my music were stolen right beneath me, or sadly when my figure was shown in a tasteless music video with the whole world coming against me. I've been trying to keep my head out of water my entire life, and I'm done. I am exhausted.
I walk upstairs and change into something more comfortable. Sitting on the bed, I turned my laptop on and began calling my publicist. I believe we have some things we should discuss.
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Hi!! Thank you for supporting our story and letting us take our Taylor Swift obsession a little too literally. See you in the next chapter! LOVE YOUUU -D
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