Darling You've Got Your Demons | Kaylor

two

Taylor

As we pulled out of the parking lot of the rehab center, I felt different. It offered me a new perspective on mental illness and addiction. Both were issues that I had donated endless amounts of money to, but I had never understood them on a personal level until now. All of these people were so kind, so open, so full of potential. And, to think, that could've easily been me.

Three out of the five people I had been blessed to talk to were in the queer community, and one of them hadn't been accepted by their parents after coming out. Karlie. She said that she came out when she was thirteen and was ostracized by her parents and most of her family and so-called friends. Her sisters were the only people who were really there for her.

All of the people I'd met that day were so nice and down to earth, but my mind kept drifting back to Karlie. The way I'd seen her pain in her perfect green eyes, the way her hand felt on mine.... I knew I was screwed. I couldn't crush on her, I couldn't crush on a fan. It wasn't right, it was weird and pedophile-y, but there I was.

I bit my lip and looked out the window, the other people and cars blurring as we drove past, trying to analyze my current predicament. I couldn't be falling in love again. I had told myself that I didn't need a relationship to be happy. I was perfectly alright on my own.

That was true, obviously. Sometimes commitment seemed utterly impossible with an insane life like mine. And, it nearly was. I wasn't ready to fall in love again. Not when all of my previous relationships had been torn to shreds by the media and by my overly-analytical nature.

I wasn't an easy person to date at all, and I knew that. The odds against me were so high, that I'd basically given up on "true love." You know what I'm talking about. True love. The everlasting effect that one reads about as a child in fairytales. When you think your life couldn't get any worse, and the perfect someone just happens to swoop in and save you.

Even if I were a "damsel in distress," which I absolutely wasn't, I couldn't see any "prince/princess charming" riding in on their horse to save me, even though I could see the whole kingdom from my tower.

I couldn't be with anyone because my life and my career were priorities, and they took over my entire life. At least, that was what I had convinced myself....

Karlie

After Taylor left, I felt like a strange glowing, warm energy was surrounding me. I felt like my entire body was wrapped in a warm blanket, or perhaps, a warm embrace. Strangely, the only part of my body that was cold was the hand that Taylor had been holding for the few hours that we'd spent together. There was a smile permanently etched on my face.

That small absence of heat continued to distract me for the rest of the day. I didn't talk I'm group therapy; I just spent the time watching the sun's light reflect on the raindrops that had accumulated during today's drizzle. That night, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, trying not to wake my roommate Cara, but failing miserably.

"Hey," She whispered, sitting up, "Can't sleep?" I shook my head. "Is this about Taylor, by any chance?" She asked, smiling because she knew she was right. I nodded again.

"I just feel so...so different. After meeting her. She's not like I expected her to be. Like, y'know, she's a celebrity. You never know how they'll be, like, in real life. I thought she might be really different from the...the brand, I guess, that the public knows as Taylor Swift. But, she's so...perfect...." I bit the corner of my lip to hide my smile, an old habit of mine.

Cara smiled, "Aww, Karlie Kloss and her major trust issues," I rolled my eyes, " But, seriously, what was up with the hand holding?"

I shrugged. "I was just picking at a hangnail or something, y'know what I mean?" I demonstrated it for her, "And she, like, noticed and put her hand on top of mine to make me stop. And then, we just ended up holding hands for the whole rest of the time, I guess." I rubbed my hand subconsciously.

"It sounds like she's got you whipped, babe," Cara said, retreating back into the blankets of her bed.

I blushed, "Y-yeah." Now that she said it, I knew it was true. I was crushing on the real Taylor Swift. God, I was pathetic. Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I sighed, cocooning myself into the warm covers. I hadn't liked someone since seventh grade. It was a new feeling, something so innocent, so pure that I felt like crying.

The only so-called "romantic" activity I had experienced was fucking random strangers every night after getting drunk at a bar. Would Taylor even think to look at someone romantically with as much baggage as I carried? Most likely not. Her career was much too big for that. Bad publicity, not to mention how busy she was as it is. Plus, she probably saw me as just another random fan.

Little did I know that she was having a similar inner monologue a few miles away in the dark....