When I was in elementary school, I spent every Thursday at my best friend Amanda’s house, where we took piano lessons together in the evenings. I lived in New York City several years before your infamous 2014 move (the inspiration behind the indisputably iconic pop record 1989). Part of our Thursdays included driving to Manhattan to pick up Amanda’s mom from work. On the way to and from her mom’s office, Amanda and I would beg her dad to play the one CD in their car — Fearless.
I distinctly remember singing along, alone, at the top of my lungs about feelings I was so far from comprehending. And yet, there was so much that did resonate with my then-single-digit self. Youth. Friendship. Disappointment. Innocence.
Re-releasing Fearless in 2021 as your first re-recorded album means so much to both of us. Fearless was your first taste of global superstardom. Thirteen years since its original release, you are one step toward rightfully owning your own words.
For me, it’s nostalgia. Thirteen years later, fifteen has come and gone. New York has reentered my story. Time is healing as we speak. I’m exactly the same age as you were when Fearless first came out, weeks away from turning nineteen. I’m a freshman in college, and it’s just as scary as if not scarier than high school. We’ve both grown up; our collective walk down memory lane has only begun.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Sincerely and fearlessly,
Kanita
Fearless (Taylor’s Version), out now.
