Why Does My Room Smell Like Taylor Swift?

I’ve been kind of absent lately, and it’s not because I have spent all of that time trying to figure out why my room smells like Taylor Swift. But since it’s the title of the blog, let’s just get to that first. For the last nearly two months, my room has mysteriously had the scent of Taylor Swift’s Wonderstruck perfume. I couldn’t figure out why, since I don’t stand there and spray my room with expensive perfume for the heck of it. I noticed it was particularly prevalent when I was lying in my bed. I have one of those Sleep Number beds, because I need to sit up to sleep due to my medical issues, and it’s better than the couch. Those beds have white covers that go over them to help keep the smell down from the chambers that inflate and deflate for comfort and to keep the mattress clean. I remove that about once every two months and wash it, since I’m not actually laying on it, being as I put a regular fitted sheet over it. Today, I pulled it off to wash it. That’s when it occurred to me as to why my room smelled like Taylor Swift.

When my boyfriend and I broke up almost two months ago, I washed the cover to get the smell of his cologne out of my bed. (Now, now, no one over think this. We used to hang out in my room to get some peace and quiet and I helped him with his homework. That is all that happened. Go clean your dirty minds.) Well, that didn’t help. That’s when I realized that he had actually managed to wear enough cologne that it had permeated onto my actual mattress. Now, I don’t know about you, but most people don’t particularly enjoy their mattress smelling like the ex they still want to be with, so I decided to combat his smell with Wonderstruck. I immediately forgot I did this. Thus how my room ended up smelling like Taylor Swift.

Today, I pulled off the cover again. When I did, I noticed that side of the bed still had a bit of a Craig (I gave up calling him “The Boy.” If I’m going down for stuff I never did, I’m going down in a engorged ball of flames. More about that later.) smell to it, so I went on ahead and sprayed it again. This time I sprayed it with Wonderstruck Enchanted. I find I actually prefer this scent to the original Wonderstruck, but I digress. Here’s to another two months of trying to figure out why my room smells like Taylor Swift.

That’s not really what I’m here to talk about, though. I have been away from my blog, and I have given up on NanoWrimo straight out of the gate this year. It’s not because I’ve lost my love for writing, but because I just simply can’t do it this year. I have been deeply depressed. I guess I didn’t realize how bad it actually was until Friend threatened to 302 me last night. For those of you without that law in your state, it’s the same law that Steve-O was committed under. It allows you to involuntarily commit a friend without their consent if you feel they are a danger to themselves. Apparently I’ve gotten that bad, which was news to me. I have, admittedly, been legally medicating myself just to function during the day without being in ridiculous tears and to sleep. I still don’t really sleep. I haven’t in six weeks. I guess his reaction shouldn’t have surprised me.

I was going to keep this to myself, but I decided to go ahead and share it anyway. I am being tested for bone cancer right now, and I’m going through it absolutely alone. I sat in the hospital for an hour and a half waiting to be tested yesterday and cried because I was scared and alone. I’m not a crier, especially over medical stuff. I have friends who are here to talk to me, but it’s not the same as having someone who makes you forget about everything just by being there, and I still have to go to all my appointments alone. This is my second cancer scare this year. The last time this happened was during the last few weeks I was with Craig, and I had made the judgement call to not tell him. I was stressed, he didn’t know why, and that’s probably part of what broke us up. That time it was leukemia. I thought we were over this whole cancer thing after I was cleared from that.

The one person who can make me forget things just by being here isn’t here. And he’s not going to be. He won’t even talk to me. A few weeks back, someone who I considered a good friend and had spent the summer with chose to tell him that I said he was a sociopath and I had premonitions that his parents beat him. I also apparently did it over the summer, when he was still away and we really didn’t know each other, and then proceeded to date him after this. Yeah, it makes zero sense to me either. I don’t even know how one would come up with something so preposterous. And that’s just the beginning of the bullshit I’ve been through in the past couple of weeks. So it’s really no wonder I’m depressed and lonely.

If you weren’t sure if I was having enough depressing fun, after I sat in the hospital for an hour and a half alone yesterday, they ended up pulling over twenty tubes of blood. Only after that was I alerted that I couldn’t drive for two or three hours. I came alone. Which meant I had to sit an hour from home all alone and try to figure out what to do with myself when I had no money and was too weak to walk around town. I eventually ended up going to Craig’s childhood friend’s house, since he only lives a few miles away from the hospital. That is exactly just as depressing as it sounds. But he did point out that on top of being the female version of Craig, which I admit to, I have also turned into a fifteen year old girl who is obsessed with Taylor Swift since the breakup. He’s probably right, but I digress.

Don’t get me wrong, I love his friend. I absolutely, completely, platonically love this guy. We have fun together. He is an awesome guy. His only fault is that he’s Craig’s childhood best friend, and that’s not even his fault, so I try not to take that out on him. I mean, heck, we had the most epic zoo day ever together. (Which I still need to post about.) But when he happens to be the best friend of the person you’re missing the most, it doesn’t help any. For the second time, I managed to depress myself. The first time was when I tried talking to guys and trying to date and trying to work things out with an old friend and realizing I didn’t have the connection with them that I had with Craig. I am super at depressing myself on accident. Considering I’ve never been depressed in twenty seven years, that in itself is depressing. And awkward. On a good note, Craig’s childhood friend told me there’s no time limit in which I have to get over Craig. I don’t have to do it until I’m ready. I’m not ready.

On the fun side of things, I went out with two of my best friends last week for my birthday. Hopefully, I will have the recap and pictures of that up soon. Also, I’d like to share things that have been texted to me in the last hour with you, because they’re funny. I’d like to go out on a high note, even though I am positive this is going to get me in trouble somehow and I am going to be mighty regretful I posted this. But like I said, if I’m being blamed for stuff I never did, I might as well get blamed for stuff I did do.
And it’s not like the picture I’m going to post isn’t out there for all the public to see anyway. The only people who will see it on here are a few of my closest friends, who probably have seen it anyway.

My good friend Kat and I are the queens of autocorrect. Somehow, they always seem to happen between each other. So much so that we have running jokes about things. In fact, we have adopted this as our motto:

One time, in an attempt to say something normal and serious, Kat tried to type “oops.” Autocorrect, being the nasty pervert that it is, decided she really meant “BOOBS!” Capitalization and exclamation mark included. It quickly turned into raunchy strip club jokes, and sometimes we will just type “BOOBS!” for no other reason than we can.

And then there’s this gem of an autocorrect that was retrieved from the great, wide internet:


Sometimes, for no other reason than we can, we will also just type MOTTSAPPLESAUCE. (We seem to do a lot of things just because we can.) We’ve done it so many times that if we hit the caps key and then MOT is just automatically corrects it. That’s right, that’s in our phones’ dictionary now. And it’s not just the two of us who do it. It has spread to some of our other friends. When we’re having a bad time, MOTTSAPPLESAUCE fixes it all.

Then, there’s the times where we are just funny. Maybe we’re not funny to anyone but the people in our immediate friendship groups, but I’m determined to find out. Tonight, I’m sitting on the couch, minding my own business, when I receive this from Kat:

Kat: “So this happens…” (She’s the one in green. See, we are autocorrect queens!)

Kat: “…and suddenly I start to feel like this.” (Yes, I received her permission to copy this conversation and use the pictures.)

My response: “Haha, so true. But at least you don’t feel like this.” (And this is probably where I’m going to get myself in trouble. But, again, this picture is out there for everyone to see and hardly the most embarrassing thing of him for public view on the internet. Yes, this is my ex. Yes, I still love him. No, I’m not making fun of him, but when shown this picture I busted out laughing. The look in his face is priceless and confusing. He’s confused, right? It’s obvious why we got along. I have many an embarrassing picture of myself for public view too.)

And Kat’s response was that it needed a black border and a caption. Touche, Kat. Any takers? Since I’m probably going to get it for this anyway. But it’s funny, right? And was public previous to me putting it on here.


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