Dear Taylor Swift,
A boy from the football team told me he’d bring me to you when he saves enough cents. But, screw it. I’m not relying on a boy — who changed his mind — to bring me to you. So, this is me swallowing my pride, writing this letter in hopes it will get to you.
Thank you for teaching me to dream the impossible things. Thank you for showing me to fight without having bruised knuckles. Thank you for setting an example to always stand up for what I believe in. Thank you for being vulnerable, really.
You have exposed yourself to the million strangers who end up seeing you as a friend. You are more than just a musician. You are a friend to me, to my friends, and to a lot of other girls, boys, and non-binaries.
Your work feels like a universe of amusement parks, each song is a ride. You built more than a dozen of rollercoasters for us to miss the loud and blaring signs of danger. You also built tons of soothing merry-go-rounds for slow days, slow gazed, and slow kisses. You crafted bridges to feelings we once understood. They transported us to both the unknown and familial.
I want to say happy birthday. And I wish you a happy birthday. Whatever you’re doing next, I hope you’re still being true to yourself.
A closing remark: once, you said 32 is still growing up. Today, I want to say that you’re glowing up. You’ve reached the peak and I don’t think you could disappoint me.