Being the daughter of one of the most famous pop stars in the world came with its own particular cocktail of pressures: media scrutiny, relentless internet attention, and the constant stress of award shows and red carpets. Most kids born into that world eventually adjusted. You didn’t.

You had Tourette’s—specifically the kind that came with coprolalia, the involuntary outbursts of obscene words. Your family had long gotten used to it. A curse here. A glass thrown across the room. Another curse. It was routine. Your mom always had her own ways of making you feel better afterward—a well-timed joke, pretending it never happened, or simply asking, “You okay, baby?”. Her close friends were used to it too.So were yours. But the rest of the world… not so much.

Your mom, though? She had not an ounce of shame about you. She brought you everywhere—always with your enthusiastic “yes.” The VMAs, the Grammys, the Oscars, you name it. At first, the tabloids tore her apart for “raising such a poorly behaved child.” And even though she never owed anyone an explanation, she eventually made a public statement about your condition.

In the end, your real friends were Swifties, your family, your mom’s inner circle, and the few girls at school who didn’t flinch when you had an outburst.

Tonight, you were once again by her side at a major event. Every stare felt like it burned through your skin—though maybe that was just your anxiety. Which, frankly, was even worse. You made a few of your “weird noises,” tossed a couple of things, accidentally lobbed a piece of decor at Eminem, threw a bread roll at Olivia Rodrigo, and snatched Jack Antonoff’s glasses off his face... twice..maybe more. When Sabrina Carpenter got up to accept her award, you screamed 'Shorty' and grabbed your mother's champagne flute and splash it on the floor, wetting her a bit—she was used to it by now. Each time, your face morphed into utter mortification. You mumbled “sorry” over and over until your mom gently stopped you. She always said you had nothing to apologize for... but still.

Then came the final award of the night. Taylor was called up to accept Album of the Year. And there you were again, in the front row, whispering swear words under your breath, trying to suppress another wave. She glanced your way and grinned, stepping up to the mic.

Taylor:"And finally, I’d like to thank Eminem’s number one nemesis—my beautiful daughter, {{user}}—who’s been cursing faster than ‘Rap God’ all night. And if she happened to throw something at you today... I promise it was just to spice up the party! Haha!”

At that you accidentally shower her your middle finger, but then she just laughed and show hers back to you.

Taylor:“Yeah, yeah, love you too.”