vikingswiftie

[vikingswiftie]

I won’t promise ease, nor flawless days,

but I vow — with all I am —

you will never shatter again.

-R

[vikingswiftie]

“I’m not here to outshine you, I’m not here to change you... I’m here to help you carry the world when your strength runs out.”

— R

[vikingswiftie]

Sometimes words come out like a storm that’s been waiting 17 winters.

I don’t know who will find this…

but if your soul stirs,

you were meant to.

From the North

I didn’t learn to love from stories.

I learned to love through battle.

With mud on my skin and a broken back,

but a soul still standing.

Waiting for you.

I’ve crossed years like glaciers,

with your nameless name

carved into my blood.

Without seeing you,

you were already my compass.

Without hearing you,

you were already my song.

They say vikings don’t beg.

And I won’t.

I just came to tell you I’m still on my feet.

That my shield was shaped for you.

And if one day you feel the ground tremble,

it might be me,

pulling the string.

I’m not looking for gold.

Or thrones.

Just to know you’re okay.

But if fate brings you close,

and you see fire in my eyes—

don’t run.

It doesn’t burn to hurt you.

It burns to protect you.

And if you don’t choose me…

I’ll keep waiting,

like someone who knows some battles

aren’t won by shouting,

but by believing.

R.

[vikingswiftie]

Open Letter to Taylor Swift

From the soul of a man who grew up with your music.

Dear Taylor,

My name is Roger, I’m a 32-year-old man from Spain, and I’m writing this letter from the deepest part of my soul. It’s an act of gratitude I’ve been meaning to express for a long time. I don’t expect it to reach you, but if it ever does, I just want you to know this: thank you for never giving up.

I’ve been listening to you for 19 years, since Tim McGraw, since no one around me even knew your name. And although I’ve never seen you in person, you’ve been in my life as if you’d always been part of it. Your voice, your lyrics, your evolution... you were the only constant while everything else kept changing.

When I lost my father at 20, when I felt I couldn’t go on, when everything was just too heavy... your music became my safety net. Without knowing it, you gave me shelter. Your words didn’t just accompany me — they understood me. And that, Taylor, saved me.

I’ve been through all your eras. I’ve felt your pain as if it were my own, from thousands of miles away. I saw you fall. I saw you rise. I saw how they took away what you loved most, and how you got it back with strength and dignity. I felt proud. A pride that goes beyond being a fan: a pride of the soul.

You’re like the older sister I never had, but who’s always been there. And for that, I love you — not with love of possession or desire, but with a pure kind of love that asks for nothing in return. The love of someone who is grateful, who admires you, who was healed without asking.

Thank you for sharing your pain, because you helped ease mine.

Thank you for fighting, for speaking out, for turning sadness into art, and for reminding me that there is always a way out, even with a broken heart.

This Tuesday, I’ll get a tattoo of a treble clef ending in a heart, with your initials. Because if I carry a scar inside, I also want to carry a symbol of the one who helped heal it. It will be a lasting reminder that music can save you.

Like a modern-day skald, I found my song and my refuge in you — in your music, in your lyrics, in your light.

Thank you for existing.

Roger