Yes alright I know she wasn't actually in the suitcase. I am aware that a photo agency has now retracted this poetic caption full of spelling and syntax errors under a photo of two men, seen lifting a huge suitcase out of a property in New York City:
Taylor Swift being transported in a huge suitcase from her Tribecca [sic] apartment into her truck. A fleet of cars including two large Cadillacs and three SUVs arrive at Tailor Swift's apartment in Tribecca [sic] to move a large suitcase from apartment to truck. Almost a dozen of Taylor Swift security guards were present to move this package carefully as Taylor Swift remains to be unseen for a long time.
I know. I KNOW. What do you mean "calm down?" I am calm. I'm fine.
Okay, whatever, I'm not fine. What you have to understand is that when a story like this one is veritably dropped into your lap—that is "Known Drama Queen Taylor Swift Is Being Literally Shipped About In a Suitcase to Avoid Being Seen By the Public"—it is very difficult to let it go. Do you know how badly I wanted Taylor Swift to be in the suitcase when the story started to spread on Monday? I wanted her to be in the suitcase more than I want a number of my own personal life goals and ambitions.
Because, truly, the image of Taylor Swift—limbs folded in a snug foetal position, head resting in a corner, maybe just about nibbling on a granola bar and ruminating on how things ever got this way when it was only a few years ago that she got to righteously cry onstage at the VMAs (headier days!)—is maybe the funniest thing I can think of. And it has been snatched away from me. There is no joy anymore.
So, I'm just going to do what any upstanding writer would do and pretend it happened anyway: after all what are mere facts when you could make jokes instead, amirite? Thus, via a complex process of meditation and projection, I have placed myself in Taylor Swift's shoes, and I have channelled, I believe, what would have been her exact thoughts should she actually have been trapped in the suitcase. I do it all for you.
Dispatches from Taylor Swift's Suitcase (Probably):
2 minutes in the suitcase: *Furiously Google searching "Taylor Swift" to see if anyone has tweeted about me being in the suitcase yet*
3 minutes in suitcase: *Dejectedly perching the phone back somewhere near my torso when I realise that nobody has noticed I'm in the case*
18 minutes in suitcase: Man being in a suitcase is boring. Wish I'd brought Selena so we could do a #squad suitcase selfie. Might be a bit of a squeeze, but still.
30 minutes in suitcase: You know what, I am going to write such a fucking song about being trapped in the suitcase. "You don't notice me / You can't see my face / You're with her instead / Because I'm trapped in the suitcase." Damn, let me record that as a voice note real quick.
37 minutes in suitcase: OK my leg hurts from being literally folded around a corner. This is getting ridiculous. Beyoncé never has to travel in a suitcase for fear of angering the public or encountering too many normal people who just want to take too many photos. I wish she would answer my calls.
46 minutes in suitcase: Siri, quick, I have another lyric idea: "I can tell that your love for her ain't real / But you don't think of me because I travel on wheeeeeels." Fuck, if we put some acoustic guitar behind that it could actually buy me a house. If anything I need more time in the suitcase to get to grips with this. Siri, remind me to tell security that I'm only travelling by case for the next couple days.
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