Coughing Colors

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April 20th; 2024
13 Days Later
Taylor Swift's Point of View
It still feels the same. It hurts and I know something isn't right. It feels like there's some monster crawling out of my lungs and no matter what I do, I can't stop it. The doctors have told me it's nothing or it's all in my head but this doesn't feel like it's in my head. If it's nothing, why am I not getting better? I take a couple of 5 hour energy drinks and swallow them down with antihistamines. I take a whiff of my inhaler and try and get myself a moment of peace.
I can hear the fans. The swifties that fill the stadiums and created my life. I look in the mirror where the makeup artists have been paying attention to. They focus on my face to make me perfect, but I don't feel so perfect. No matter what they try and do, you can still see the bags in my eyes and the eyes without life. Have you ever just looked in a mirror and questioned with everything you had what the hell is wrong with me? I begin to cough hoarsely again which prompts a worker to hand me a tissue.

I look up at the girl with a small grin. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. You know, it's not too late to cancel. If you're not feeling up to it-"

"No. I've never canceled a concert because I felt shitty. These people came all over the world to see me. It's not fair. I'll just push through it and take care of myself when it's over." I explain.

"Mrs. Swift, with all due respect, I don't think this is the best idea. Would you be happy if you saw someone else doing this?" This woman asks.

"Of course I wouldn't want to see someone in this pain but I'm not some other person. I'm Taylor fucking Swift. I know what I'm doing."

"You know, Elton John didn't-."

I slam my hands on the table. "I'm not Elton John! I'm going to do this concert. Who the fuck are you anyway?"

"I'm your production designer, Heather Shaw. We've met like 10 times to put together this concert."

"Fuck me."

"I'm happily married."

"Not in that-just go. I'm sorry." I watch Heather walk away quickly which is something I would have done in her position.
I cough once again but this time I end up coughing into tissue. I take a moment to breathe and when I look at the tissue, it's covered in blood. One more day Taylor, just one more day. All I need to do is get through the next four hours. God these four hours are gonna suck.

"You ready?" The manager of the show asks.

I inhale slowly and exhale with my eyes closed. "Yeah. Let's do this." I stand up and look down at my rainbow dress that reaches the floor. My lips are classic red and I added rainbow hair extensions just for this show. I'm basically a human version of the pride flag. I get on the elevator and the entire stadium blackouts. A short 30 second clip begins...it's the 1995 interview of Cher and she says mom, I am a rich man. The background music to You Need to Calm Down begins. I begin to rise and hear the crowd loosing their absolute fucking mind. It makes me smile just hearing the crowd. I get to the top and just say a few words.

You are somebody that I don't know.

Pause.

But you're taking shots at me like it's patrón

Pause.

And I'm just like, damn

Pause.

It's 7 a.m.

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