Dear Reader,

You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you. But I know you. I know you all too well. Because I’m only me when I’m with you, which is to say, I am you. I am you from the future who is now stuck in the past. If you’re freaked out, and you are a hundred percent freaking out, you need to calm down. Let me explain.

The last time I was in the present, I was walking out of Taylor Swift’s The Eras Tour concert movie. It was in the middle of her little performative set just before “tolerate it.” Listen, I know you know just how much I love Taylor, but with a three-hour runtime, who’s got the time to watch her set the table? Leave the artsy fartsy installation art performances to Matty Healy raw-chomping his meat. Anyway, I had already downed all the Coke from my Eras Tour collectible cup and I needed to use the bathroom, so don’t blame me for walking out in the middle of the movie.

The problem wasn’t that I walked out but that I couldn’t remember how to get back. Every theater that night was playing the Eras Tour simultaneously, and I had forgotten which numbered theater was playing my showing. While I had walked out during the evermore era, she could have already moved on to Reputation. So, I figured she did. I walked into Theater 4, which had been playing “Look What You Made Me Do” thinking I would easily find myself back in my seat.

But I didn’t. I kid you not, I didn’t go back into a theater at all. Instead, I was transported to somewhere in upstate New York. It was covered in foliage. At first, I felt like I had been there all this time because I was in the middle of walking on the side of the road when I got there. When I realized something was wrong, I checked my phone, but there wasn’t any cell service. I kept walking, thinking I could reach the next town over and hoping that someone would drive by and explain everything to me.

And someone did drive by. There were two of them sitting in a red Chevy convertible. I shouted after them just as they passed, but they didn’t even bother to stop. They were speeding! Then one of them managed to lose a scarf, which floated to the side of the road and landed among the leaves as they raced away. I went after it, thinking if I ran into them again in the next town, I would return it to them. But when I reached for the scarf on the ground and my fingers made contact, I was pulled back to the hallway in the theater, as if I had just stepped out of the bathroom and, again, was making my way back to my seat.

It was then that I realized I was caught in a never-ending loop of Taylor’s eras, a lyrical-temporal tapestry of parallel universes that only she could dream up. With every new theater I chose, I was transported into a new scene, a new story. I went from Nashville’s Centennial Park to the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I sat down on a bench in Coney Island, then found myself in 1920s Rhode Island. I was sitting in the bleachers of some suburban football game, then I was driving shotgun–hair undone–in the front seat of a car.

With every successive jumpcut, I’d find myself in the theater again, playing Russian roulette with musical chairs, not knowing where in Taylor’s multiverse I’d end up next. Whether it was Theater 2 or Theater 12, I found myself anywhere and everywhere but my own seat. I went from LA, NY, to London. But I couldn’t get back.

The last theater I remember walking into was Theater 5. As soon as I walked through its door–the air was cold–I found myself standing outside the theater in front of the marquee. The sign read BATMAN, so I couldn’t have gone too far back. I remember seeing Taylor post about it when it first came out, giving Zoe Kravitz some love from one Catwoman to another. Both of them were no strangers to some vigilante shit after all.
But I was mistaken. This wasn’t The Batman, but just Batman. I was wondering why there were more scruffy middle-aged men and not more of the sparkly vampire kind of crowd waiting in line. I was even further back in the past than I thought.

So for now I’m stuck in 1989. I have been here for three days. Unlike before, I can’t seem to get back to the present no matter which door or theater I enter. After giving it some thought, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I’ll get to see the world through Taylor’s time. I’ll still have to wait a while until her first self-titled album, but I’ll get to watch her perform even before she gets famous. I’ll be a true, day-one fan! Sure, I’m still looking forward to getting back to the future, too. But who else can say they get to witness every one of Taylor’s eras for the first time over again?

Anyway, I probably shouldn’t interact with you, even if I know everything about you and where you’ll be. It doesn’t take a mastermind to know how time travel works.

But here I am writing this letter, which you should have received exactly the day before you go to the movies to watch The Eras Tour. If you get this in time, please remember your theater and seat number.

Do you remember? I hope you do.

Forever & Always—until I get back to the present.

P.S. I finally found my ticket stub in my back pants pocket. It’s Theater 13, Seat F8.