Taylor Swift Songs That Helped Me Name My Trauma

And why I wear them on my skin—forever.

Someone once told me I’d regret my Taylor Swift tattoos.
They said, “When I was your age, I would’ve gotten Madonna lyrics—and I would’ve hated it by now.”

I smiled, but didn’t explain.
Because my Taylor Swift tattoos aren’t about pop culture or fleeting obsession.
They’re about survival.

Taylor Swift didn’t just write catchy songs for me.
She gave me language—language for things I didn’t know how to say, feelings I didn’t know how to process, memories I didn’t even know were trauma until I heard them sung back to me with poetry and pain.

I have “to live for the hope of it all” etched into my arm.
Because some days, hope is the only thing that keeps me moving. Not healing, not strength, not clarity—just hope. That line held me when I couldn’t hold myself.

I have “Fearless” and “Delicate” tattooed on the same arm. Two seemingly opposite words that describe me perfectly. Bold and brave. Soft and sensitive. I’ve always lived at that intersection.

And at the very top of my arm, I have “The Manuscript”—because my body is a story. My skin carries the chapters I survived. My arm is my manuscript, and these lyrics are my punctuation marks.

There’s a massive mirrorball on my arm—not the lyric, but the image itself. Because I’ve spent a lifetime being whoever I needed to be to stay safe, to be loved, to avoid abandonment. I shine and spin and reflect, even when I’m breaking.

There’s a dragon for “Long Live,” because I survived what was meant to destroy me. That dragon isn’t fantasy—it’s the fire I had to become.

There’s a broken champagne glass for “champagne problems,” because I know what it’s like to be the girl who couldn’t choose the perfect fairytale. To be grieving something that was never truly hers, while everyone else toasts the future.

These tattoos aren’t fandom—they’re fragments of my healing.
They’re bookmarks in the story of who I’ve been and who I’m becoming.

Taylor Swift’s songs helped me name my trauma. Helped me cry when I needed to cry. Helped me walk away when I needed to leave. Helped me stay when I wanted to run.

And if one day, someone asks why I have so many Taylor Swift tattoos—why my skin is a manuscript of lyrics and symbols and pain and resilience—I’ll say:

Because she gave me the words when I didn’t have any.
Because these songs didn’t just move me.
They saved me.