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Here's Exactly What Waiting For Taylor Swift's New Album Feels Like

The agony and the ecstasy of the 1989 build-up, in GIFs.

Some people might tell you that Taylor Swift's upcoming fifth studio album, 1989, will be released very soon -- Monday, October 27, in fact. "What's another couple of hours," they might mindlessly cackle as they toss a loose handful of popcorn at their mouths, missing every third kernel in their hubris.

Related: Which Taylor Swift Song Are You?

Those people are FOOLS. The wait for the "Shake It Off" singer's LP has been nothing short of excruciating. Agonizingly slow, even. It's been like driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street. And then running out of gas. It's been like being unable to form a coherent simile because OH MY GOD, WHY ISN'T TAYLOR'S ALBUM OUT YET!? These GIFs know what I'm talking about.

Here I am, still waiting for Taylor Swift's new album.

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You know, 1989? Also known as the best chance 2014 has at a platinum-selling album by an artist?

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Eat it, "Frozen" soundtrack.

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Will I make it to Monday? It's been rough.

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Constantly refreshing Instagram, never able to sleep.

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New lyrics. The track list. Revealed morning, noon and night right when you least expect it.

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I haven't slept in days. Maybe it's been weeks. I don't even know anymore.

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OH MY GOD, is that a new Taylor song playing in that Target commercial? Is that "Style"?!

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My friend Abigail says it's not about Harry Styles.

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Abigail and I aren't friends anymore.

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Wait, the early reviews of 1989 are in.

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The New York Times loves 1989!

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So does TIME!

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BRB, burning the New York Daily News.

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Hold up... Not one of those critics quoted the lyrics to "Bad Blood" in their reviews. Why won't they tell me what the lyrics are?!

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(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻

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All that's left is for the album to arrive.

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Soon, it will be Monday. Soon, we will be "Out Of The Woods."

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What will 1989 sound like?

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Like the pitter-patter of Scottish Folds on the hardwood floor two stories above you?

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Like a familiar voice, gently whispering "no its becky" in your good ear?

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Like a chorus of flaxen-haired angels sent down to post-industrial Pennsylvania to save us from lesser album sales?

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Truly, my life has been building to this moment.

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Hurry, 1989. Hurry.

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