“Quick, quick, tell me something awful,
Like you are a poet trapped inside the body of a finance guy.
Tell me all your secrets, all you’ll ever be is
My eternal consolation prize.
You see I was a debutant in another life, but
Now I seem to be scared to go outside.
If comfort is a construct, I don’t believe in good luck
Now that I know what’s what.
I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind,
People need a key to get to, the only one is mine.
I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child.
No mid-sized city hopes and small town fears.
I’m there most of the year ‘cause I hate it here.
I hate it here…”
When I listened to Taylor Swift’s newest album last month, I was not expecting to come across a song I would have such a visceral reaction to. I’m sure everyone’s had the experience of listening to a song and feeling as if the artist was reading your mind as they were writing it. It’s not the first time Taylor’s written a song like this for me- The Archer, The Prophecy, mirrorball, this is me trying, right where you left me, seven- all examples of Taylor songs that have cut me to the core. And not just Taylor Swift songs, others as well- Ribs by Lorde, Repeat by Luke Hemmings, The Future by Bo Burnham, just to name a few. It’s songs like these that you deeply relate to that can remind you of the power that music holds. But never have I heard a song that made me feel quite as understood as I Hate it Here, which is just 1 of the incredible 31 tracks on Taylor’s newest project, THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT: THE ANTHOLOGY.
Ever since I was four years old, I’ve been an obsessive daydreamer. I don’t know why I did it when I was younger (probably just for my own amusement), but as I got older, it became a coping mechanism for me; a means of escapism. I’ve always lived in my own little world. There’s who I am in my head, and there’s who I am in real life. In my head, I’ve lived a thousand lives. I’ve been a world famous actress. I’ve been a best-selling author. I’ve been a charitable and revered philanthropist. I’ve been a comedian. I’ve been a film director. I’ve been an academic. The list goes on.
From the ages of 4-12, I imagined that my life was a sitcom of which I was the main character. That is something I have never admitted to anyone in my real life, and I’m quite certain if I did, they’d think I’m delusional (although I recently read a Substack post that made me realise this is more common than I thought, you can read Faith’s post here). While I no longer pretend my life is a TV show, I still spend a ridiculous amount of time with my head up in the clouds. So much so, to the point where the lines between fiction and reality can start to blur in my mind. Sometimes reality is grim and grey when I compare it to the vibrant life I’ve curated in my mind.
My entire life, my mind has always been my safe haven (which is a somewhat contradictory statement, because as someone with an anxiety disorder, my mind is simultaneously my greatest enemy, but that’s a different essay). Whenever I’m sad, or scared, or something bad happens, my first instinct always is to daydream; to retreat to my mind. Daydreaming soothes me. It makes me feel better. I’ve tried in the past to stop daydreaming, but it is so deeply intertwined with who I am at this point, that I genuinely don’t know if I could. I also don’t know if I even want to.
That first line of the chorus: “I hate it here so I will go to secret gardens in my mind people need a key to get to, the only one is mine.” That perfectly captures how I view my daydreams. It’s almost as if I’m travelling to an enchanted garden in my mind where you can step through magic doors into different worlds in which you can be whoever you want to be and do whatever you want to do, and I am the only one who has access to these worlds, which only makes them all the more sacred.
I feel as if there’s quite a large crossover between people who are daydreamers and people who are writers. In a past essay of mine, “Why Do I Write?”, I talk about how writing gives me the ability to bring life to at least some of the stories swirling around my head. Not all of the stories in my secret garden are about me, many are about the characters I’ve created in stories I’ve either already written, or intend to write some day. Perhaps there’s a crossover in my love of daydreaming and my love of stories.
The next line of the chorus is: “I read about it in a book when I was a precocious child.” This is most likely a reference to the 1911 children’s novel written by Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden. While I haven’t read that book specifically (although I intend to one day), I was a major bookworm as a child. Not only did I live in my daydreams, I lived in the worlds of the books I read. One moment I was a teenager at an American middle school, the next I was a witch learning magic at Hogwarts. I adored the way books gave me the ability to transport myself into other worlds. In addition to a love of reading, I can also say that, like Taylor, I was a precocious child. I wasn’t a stranger to the phrase, “you’re so mature for your age,” growing up. She mentions this first on the track, But Daddy I Love Him, when she says, “growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all,” another lyric that I deeply relate to.
“My friends used to play a game where we would pick a decade,
We wished we could live in instead of this.
I’d say the 1830s, but without all the racists
And getting married off for the highest bid.
Everyone would look down,
’Cause it wasn’t fun now.
Seems like it was never even fun back then.
Nostalgia is a mind’s trick.
If I’d been there, I’d hate it.
It was freezing in the palace.
I hate it here so I will go to lunar valleys in my mind,
When they found a better planet,
Only the gentle survived.
I dreamed about it in the dark,
The night I felt like I might die.
No mid-sized city hopes and small town fears.
I’m there most of the year ‘cause I hate it here.
I hate it here…”
It’s easy to romanticise things of the past. A lot of my favourite novels are ones that were written decades ago, e.g. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery, Pride & Prejudice and Emma by Jane Austen. When I watch the screen adaptations of these classic stories that sweep you up in the cinematography and visuals, it’s easy to romanticise the elegant balls and gowns and sophisticated way of talking. But as Taylor acknowledges, if I were to actually live in that time period, I’d hate it. I’d hate the lack of independence and control over my own life I’d have as a woman. But it’s just another means of escapism.
“Nostalgia is a mind’s trick” is one of the most accurate things Taylor has ever said. I find it especially true as someone who regularly falls victim to the trap of nostalgia. I often longingly look back on the memories of childhood; playing make-believe in my backyard and running amuck on the school yard at recess. Sometimes I even look back affectionately on memories as early as last year. I always look back on things more fondly than when I’m actually living it. It all ties back into escapism- I hate it here, so I will travel to the past and future, anywhere but the present (for a song based entirely on this concept, check out The Future by Bo Burnham).
The new chorus: “I hate it here so I will go to lunar valleys in my mind, when they found a better planet, only the gentle survived,” is almost as relatable to me as the first chorus, but for completely different reasons. I’ve always been a sensitive person; for better and for worse. To quote Taylor herself from the song Sweet Nothing, I often feel like “I’m just too soft for all of it.” In a world that can be as harsh and mean as ours, I relate to Taylor’s daydream of a planet much better than this being found where only the soft and the gentle can survive.
“I dreamed about it in the dark the night I felt like I might die,” is such a weighted lyric, and it can be interpreted in so many different ways. But it does perfectly demonstrate the way daydreaming can be used as a coping mechanism. As someone who frequently has late-night panic attacks, it’s a line I can relate to. Similar to how the line from the first verse, “I was a debutant in another life but now I seem to be scared to go outside,” is a line that I can relate to through my experience over the years with social anxiety.
The line, “no mid-sized city hopes and small town fears,” is another line I deeply relate to, as someone who was born and raised in one of those in-between places that some would deem a mid-sized city and some would deem a small town. Taylor herself grew up in a place of a similar size, and she’s spoken before in songs about how she felt trapped in her hometown growing up (i.e. “I didn’t choose this town, I dream of getting out” from You’re On Your Own, Kid). As much as I love my hometown, I can admit that sometimes living in small towns can feel suffocating.
“I’m lonely but I’m good,
I’m bitter but I swear I’m fine.
I’ll save all my romanticism for my inner life.
And I’ll get lost on purpose.
This place made me feel worthless.
Lucid dreams like electricity,
The current flies through me,
And in my fantasies I rise above it.
And way up there,
I actually love it…”
I always thought of my daydreaming tendencies as something I’d eventually grow out of, but as I’m reaching my 20s and still daydream just a frequently now as I did as a child, I’ve come to accept this is just the way my brain works. I’m still figuring out if that’s a good thing or not. “I’ll save all my romanticism for my inner life,” is the perfect way to describe it. Maybe to Taylor, this song is about something completely different, but to me, that’s what this song is about- the escapism of daydreaming.
But that’s the great thing about poetry. You can interpret it however you want and apply it to your own life to give it a whole new meaning. Taylor herself has said she loves it when fans do that. If you haven’t already listened to I Hate it Here by Taylor Swift, do yourself a favour and listen to it now:
I’m having a great time digesting all 31 songs on THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT, but I have a feeling this song is going to remain my favourite, and it’s probably only going to become more special to me as time goes on.