Taylor Swift Was Right: We Never Go Out Of Style


As I sit here, penning this absurdly ridiculous yet all-too-true piece of writing, I can hear you chuckling, laughing at the parallel drawn between a Taylor Swift song and the absolute rollercoaster ride that has been our journey.

But listen, hear me out. Trust me, it makes sense.

When we met, we knew from the get-go that it wasn’t meant to be. You may not remember this (surprise, surprise), but I do.

Just getting to the point of building a relationship of any kind—still unnamed and unlabeled, by the way—was hard work. It took gruelling effort. With you, I became a passenger immersed in immense darkness, stumbling, falling, bruising hard, but carrying on, unaware of whether the dark path I traversed upon was a tunnel or a never-ending cave.

With some people, you don’t plan ahead. You don’t wonder whether you’re both going to be in love 10 years down the line. You don’t sit deep in thought, pulling your hair out over whether or not you’ll spend weeks on end curled up in a fetal position, sobbing endlessly, if the other leaves.

You don’t wonder what color gown you’ll wear at the potential wedding, whether or not their mom will like you or what the names of your babies would be. And that—that ease and certainty with which I knew for a fact that we could never be more than this unnamed, unlabeled state—that is what allowed me to lose myself in you to the extent where I knew I could get back the parts I needed without taking away from you everything I thought you needed to keep.

You and I, we’re terrible at staying in touch. We’re egotistical and driven. Above all else, though, we’re polar opposites. I’m hot-tempered, you’re too passive. I feel too strongly, you prefer to not feel at all. I’m all heart and you’re all mind. Everything about us screams destruction, like a whirlwind of taboos that are better left untampered.

We talk for hours or not at all. We spend a whole day in each other’s arms, or keep away for half a year. We spend our day close enough for me to smell the intoxicating cologne on your neck, or we spend months apart, trying to remember what it felt like to hold each other.

We’re a constant game of tug and war where, instead of you and me on either side, it’s us in the center, tethered to a rope, pulled to one side by irrefutable chaos and the other side by irrevocable passion.

Yet we always find our way back to each other. Amongst the entangled web of our individual marriages to work, lust, love and all the other factors that keep us apart, we still manage to trace back the weathered route that led us to each other in the first place.

How could we, when I’d drop everything in a heartbeat to lay my head against your chest? And I would hope you would too, and though you give little to no indication for me to think so, I believe it nonetheless.

You and I, we’re a song that doesn’t quite make sense to everyone, save those who empathize with what it feels like to love unconditionally, despite knowing that if we’re struggling to establish a present, there is definitely no future in sight.

I guess what I’m saying is, it’s like what Taylor Swift says in that song that has somehow never reminded me of you before, but rings clearly through my mind this very moment: we never go out of style.

And knowing us, we never will.