All the way back in February, when I turned 26, my mom got me the best birthday present ever: Tickets to Taylor Swfit's 1989 World Tour.

I cried, partly because there's something especially emotionally binding when you're a Taylor Swift fan who was also born in 1989; you essentially grew up together. I saw her music video for "Teardrops On My Guitar" back in 2006 on CMT, bought her album, and listened to "Our Song" on repeat in my car. I was a junior in high school, living in small town Ohio. Soon I'd get accepted to New York University and leave — back then, being a Taylor Swift fan still felt small and exclusive, like you were in on some wonderful secret.

When Fearless came out in 2008, I was living in New York, dealing with my first major breakup — Fearless was a small but substantial lifeboat. Speak Now came out in 2010, just before I graduated. I was terrified and excited, I felt tiny and infinitely full of potential, and I listened to "Long Live" on repeat.

Two years later, I was working as a bartender, dealing with another breakup, and I was acutely miserable. I still felt tiny — even smaller — and I'd hit a dead-end. I'd put Red on as I cleaned the bar at the end of my shift, and dance around to "I Knew You Were Trouble," feeling just a tiny bit bigger.

When 1989 came out last year, I'd finally gotten a writing job. I started believing that, after 7 years in New York, I was carving out a place for myself. And it seemed Taylor was feeling the exact same thing in the exact same city.

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