Taylor Swift imagines▪️GXG▪️

"You are not fine"

Ik y'all are probs tired of the moments thing, but idk I just like writing them- and I'll get on that pt.2 of of rep room soon

Y/n pov

Me and taylor have been dating for about 7 months, and I could tell she was getting worried about me. I was cutting again, not eating enough, over exercising, and staying up way to late, even the suicidal thoughts have come flooding back. And even worse, I lied about getting therapy for it. "Y/n! Babygirl, I got you coffee and a cupcake", taylor called from downstairs. She pulled me in for for kiss, and I smiled against her lips. "Oh, um I'm not hungry, but I guess take the coffee I'm a little tired", I said and took the iced coffee from her hands. "Oh, what'd you eat?", she asked. "Some cereal, fruit loops", I said, "....okay", taylor said skeptically.

The day went on and taylor left my house, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I started to question what she had said, did she know something? Did she think i was too skinny or too picky? No, impossible, you're too fat. My thoughts reached so far into my insecurities and pulled them right out. A few tears left my eyes as I blankly listened to them. You don't even like your life, why are you here? You annoy everyone to the point where they hate you. Why else do you think taylor hasn't moved in yet? Exactly, except the fact you don't belong here or anywhere, and never will. The best idea is to drive to that edge off the road and jump, I'm sure after the fake grieving everyone expresses, they'll all be back to their normal lives with one less problem.

One. Less. Problem.

Those torturous and cruel words iterate throughout my mind. Spite wanting to give in and let the idea take over, I kept strong and took a deep breath. "Maybe, I'll just...", I trailed off and went searching for my blade. If I can't stop the pain forever, than maybe I can be the one in control of it. I ran the sharp blade across the skin on my shoulders, hoping for a trail of dark blood to follow right after it. As anticipated, the stream of warm liquid began dripping down, and for once, I had did something right. For once, I had forgotten the disappointment of me. Or rather, the disappointment inflicted in me. Yet, one cut wasn't enough nor satisfactory, it never was. That's alright though, just one more.

Just. one. more.

Deep down, I knew it was never going to end at one or two cuts. but it did end in a sorrow of blood, a puddle of it, if you will.

My red stained blade was a colorful paint brush,
and I was the endless canvas.

That was my way of thinking for quite awhile. Until one day taylor came by the house. "Y/n. Are you okay?", she asked seriously when I let her in. "Yeah, I'm fine", I answered, with the fakest smile. "No you're not. Baby, you're not fine", she said and held my hands. "Yes I am, I told you I'm getting with a therapist about all of it", I lied once more. "I saw you out at a coffee shop when you said you were at therapy, that amongst other times. So, no y/n you aren't fine", taylor said. I looked away for a second, "I-, it's normal. What I'm going through i-is not that hard, okay, so many people experience what I do. I'm fine.", I lied once more, each word mentally stabbing me.

"You seriously believe your life is easy?? You've been abused, assaulted, you self harm, starve, deal with Body dysmorphia, and fight the horrid thought of killing yourself every-single-day. You are not fine. And you have one of the hardest situations, you need to know that you are not allowed to sit here and tell yourself you don't!", taylor scolded me. "I don't need your help, taylor! I may be broken but I've got it!", I yelled back. "You are not broken, y/n. You're just not fine, and I'll be there every step if the way until you are", taylor said. Maybe she was right, I wasn't fine, but who said I'll always be this way? If I'm still here maybe it's worth the while.