“They are burning all the witches, even if you aren’t one

They got pitchforks, and proofs, they don’t need their reasons

So light me up, light me up, light me up, go ahead and light me up…”

– I did something bad (Reputation, 2017, Taylor Swift)

You’d probably think I’ve lived a hundred different lives based on the sheer volume of blog posts I write daily. If you ever scrolled through my Notes app, you’d assume I have an innate flair for dramatic storytelling.

Now, while my life might not be “full” in the traditional sense, it has certainly been full of drama—and filled with dramatic people who love to accuse me of “exaggerating.”

“I swear I don’t love the drama, it loves me!”

— Endgame (Reputation, 2017, Taylor Swift)

Anyone who knows me knows that my personality is essentially a chaotic amalgamation of sitcom quotes, pop lyrics, and a million Taylor Swift interviews. I might cry over something trivial, and I might be genuinely heartbroken when “friends” say derogatory things about me behind my back… but I will always bounce back.

And frankly? I don’t give a single fuck if someone thinks I “exaggerate,” “lie,” or “manipulate” to get my way. Surprisingly enough, the people who throw those words around are usually the biggest manipulators I’ve ever met—classic wolves in sheep’s clothing.

Right about now, you’re probably wondering: Why is she rambling about this? What went wrong? Who hurt her?

This is where my borrowed Taylor Swift personality traits start to make a lot more sense.

Anyone who follows pop culture even casually knows about the whole Selena Gomez and Justin Bieber saga. We all have our takes. But Taylor’s stance was crystal clear. When asked about Justin in a post-awards interview after one of their breakups, her entire reaction was just a classic eye roll, a heavy “UGH!”, and a sharp “Next question.”

Her priority was her best friend, her sister, her lifeline—not some guy who had the potential to hurt her. (And before anyone jumps down my throat: this isn’t a hot take, just an observation. As a girl’s girl myself, I’ve rarely liked my best friends’ men, and the feeling has usually been mutual.)

That interview was core-memory material, and I realized just how much it stuck with me last night.

A little someone from my tertiary circle (or honestly, an even farther orbit) told one of my closest people that I am “all about exaggeration.” Why? Because I shared a simple story about someone I knew through him, and the details got a little blurry on who did what to whom.

When it eventually got back to me—because of course it did—my reaction was an instant eye-roll and a heavy UGH. What else is new? Just another cheapskate wannabe who decided to hate me.

Here’s the thing: if you dislike me, simply stop existing in my orbit and stop keeping me in yours. With very few exceptions, I genuinely do not care who stays and who goes. I have zero time for two-faced energy—people who ask the thief to steal and then run to report it to the police. Grow a spine for heaven’s sake, and have the courage to confront people directly.

Besides, watching people audit my life and police how I tell my own stories has made two specific moments live rent-free in my mind—and they have practically become my life philosophy.

First, that iconic moment in the Miss Americana documentary where Taylor just bursts out laughing at the sheer absurdity of someone trying to micromanage her:

“Sorry, was I being loud? In my own house? That I bought? With the songs I wrote? About my own life?” (Miss Americana, January 2020)

That response blew my mind because… exactly. The audacity of people telling you that you’re “too much” in a narrative that you are living and creating? It’s comical. I’m writing from my own experience, in my own space, and you’re mad that I’m taking up room? Please.

And second, that legendary speech where she broke down the endless, unwinnable moving target of public commentary:

“They say I’m dating too much? Okay, fine, I’ll stop dating and just hang out with my female friends. Oh, now that’s a calculated girl gang strategy? Okay, fine, no one will see me for a year…” ((Billboard Woman of the Decade award acceptance speech of Taylor Swift, December, 2019)

It made me realize that when people decide to misinterpret you, you will lose no matter what move you make.

• If you express your feelings, you’re “dramatic.”
• If you tell a story with passion, you’re “exaggerating.”
• If you set boundaries and walk away, you’re “calculating.”

When you realize that the goalposts will always shift depending on who is trying to tear you down, you stop running toward them. You stop trying to explain yourself to an audience that was only ever looking for a flaw in the performance.

So, why is this blog titled “Sorry, Not Sorry”?

Because for a brief second, the polite, conflict-averse part of me—the part trained to keep the peace—thought about softening the edges. Thought about saying, “Oh, maybe I should clarify,” or “Maybe I shouldn’t take up so much space.”

Then I remembered who I am.

• Sorry that my life doesn’t fit into your sanitized, boring narrative where everyone speaks in polite whispers and pretends to care.
• Sorry that I tell stories with passion, love with intensity, and refuse to play small just to make petty people comfortable.
• Sorry that I curate my inner circle with ruthless precision—if you’re not in it, your opinion carries the exact weight of a skipped ad on YouTube.

…But NOT SORRY for living out loud. NOT SORRY for rolling my eyes, hitting “next question,” and saving my energy strictly for the people who actually ground me.

At the end of the day, my life isn’t a courtroom, and I’m not standing trial for background extras. You call it drama; I call it living with flavor. You call it exaggeration; I call it good storytelling. Sure, I might cry a lot over the messiness of it all—“I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it’s an art.”

I write my stories, process my emotions, build my life, and still manage to turn out post after post while you’re sitting back watching.

So to the tertiary circle, the whisperers, and the side-character spectators trying to grade my life performance from the cheap seats: keep talking. You’re just giving me great material for the next entry.

And honestly? Ugh… try and come for my job!