TS7 AT MIDNIGHT

but just wanted to say thank you for this one @taylorswift

i never talk about my dad being ill. i told one person in high school and one person at uni, and even that took force to spill the words out and was only because they asked. i blogged about it once or twice maybe but pressing post was terrifying and i made sure to disperse it with pretty pictures. apart from that i skirted around it with euphemisms, used the words "being ill" instead of "having cancer" because i wanted to hold onto this fantasy of being fine at school. because it's nice to "just pretend it isn't real".

and mostly because i got it in my head that talking about something so terrible was innately self-absorbed and attention-seeking and would bum people out. i bottled it up so tight i ended up going to the doctor's about heart palpitations like it was rattling round my ribcage trying to escape.

so if i hesitated speaking to friends, i cannot comprehend the bravery it took for taylor and her family to share this song, with the added critics and scrutiny.

it feels less like listening to a popstar and more like finally sharing stories with someone who understands. it's reignited flashbacks i never wanted to see again but at least i know i'm not alone in them:

the parents' evening where i was waiting by the school door and he wasn't picking up his phone and i was already sobbing assuming the worst but he actually went inside the hall early and was speaking to a teacher already. and how we never spoke about that panic attack because we're all pretending we're not scared and how i eventually learned that instinctive worry would never completely go away even 5 years later.

those nights panting sweating palpitating giving praying a go because you've run out of ideas knowing me and my mum are both awake alone and he's not there. he's in some hospital bed somewhere.

and how his snoring used to always annoy me but once he got better it became my favourite sound because it was a surefire sign he was there and alive.

filling hot water bottles and poaching eggs and taking out the bins and constantly busying yourself and trying to keep your voice bright and avoid getting annoyed because you don't know how else to help.

how 90% of the time you'd walk down the ward and it'd be the longest you'd ever held your breath and you'd turn the corner he'd be laughing with the nicest nurses. that 30% chance of recurrence, the bad deal we tried to make the best of.

seeing him for fewer and fewer hours a day because he sleeps the rest and being able to see the hollows of his cheekbones and the first hole on his belt being too small and him tripping up the stairs because chemo ruined the nerves in his toes and the heating on full blast because he's always cold and feeling guilty you'll never know how any of it feels.

and how you prepare for life without him with an almost detachment and after that it goes back to such a shaky "normal" it's like you're constantly blocking out the fact it's probably gonna fall down again.

somehow all of that is in this song. and even though i can't listen to it in public any more than she wants to play it in public, it's been the catharsis i've been waiting for.

Cornelia street and daylight are almost five minutes long.................

UHM GUYS? Look at the red dice. The dice show the numbers '6-6-6'. 666 is the number of the devil. Taylor recently got the lyric "DEVILS ROLL THE DICE" painted on wall in Brooklyn. Coincidence? I THINK NOT.

UPDATE: NOW THIS DOES INDEED MEAN SOMETHING YALL