Swift has never been afraid of vulnerability. Since her debut album back in 2006, we’ve heard her eloquently put heartbreak into words — giving space for the most intimate, aching, and often embarrassing feelings, from dealing with mean girls to getting dumped by someone you told your friends you were going to marry. She crafted a world in which the youthful emotions that our parents tell us to “get over” are valid and important.

But now, she’s letting us see her anger. And for a woman who has spent her life in the public eye, conditioned to strive for outside approval, that is perhaps the scariest and most vulnerable space to let the world into. Twisted fantasies, inner demons, and shameful insecurities are given equal airtime to the soft sadness and wistful nostalgia. In The Tortured Poets Department, she is hurting, she is confused, she is grieving, and she is enraged. And it might just be her most healing project yet.

“It kind of reminded me of why songwriting is something that actually gets me through my life,” Swift told the crowd in Melbourne. “I’ve never had an album where I needed songwriting more than I needed it on Tortured Poets.”

Opening the album with “Fortnight” (ft. Post Malone), Swift jumps straight into the deep end, outlining in ways the various themes and ideas she’ll cover over the subsequent two hours. “I was supposed to be sent away / but they forgot to come and get me,” she starts with, before detailing a momentary love that feels forever marked on her body and soul. The key refrain, “I love you / it’s ruining my life,” instantly brings us back to a song of Swift’s from years ago, “Gorgeous,” where she sings, “you’ve ruined my life / by not being mine” — and in the black-and-white feature film-worthy music video, nods to her past albums are even more plentiful. Her profile made out of paper looks remarkably similar to her profile in the music video for “Style,” and scenes from “Blank Space” and “Lover” appear recreated in TTPD fashion. In many ways, it tells us that this project is the culmination of all she has done before. Everything she has gone through — the highs and lows of being in the public eye, falling in and out of love, trusting and getting stabbed in the back — has come pouring out in a 31 track-long masterpiece.

The references don’t end there. Throughout the project, literary motifs resurface (Peter Pan and Wendy in “Peter” harken back to “Cardigan”), chord progressions reappear (there’s a part of “So Long, London” that feels ripped from the heart of “Call It What You Want”), and Swift classics take new forms (“But Daddy I Love Him” truly is a grown up “Love Story”). Though writing on a typewriter might feel like there’s no room for edits, the poet reminds us that our life stories are always shifting and making space for new chapters. Closing one book, let’s say, lets us open another.

The complexity of emotions is reflected in the production, which ranges from Jack Antonoff’s classic booming stadium-worthy sonics (credited on the likes of “Fresh Out The Slammer” and “Down Bad”) to Aaron Dessner’s precision and cutthroat builds (“The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” and “The Albatross”). Continuously redefining the genre of pop, Swift breaks through even her most flexible of rules in a way that perhaps only she can do successfully. There is no obvious “radio single” of the 31, no “22” to balance out the “All Too Well”s, yet there is a clear progression and balance of peaks and valleys. The devastating Track 5 (iykyk) offering of “So Long, London” feeds into the vibrating chant of “Florida!!! (Ft. Florence + the Machine)”; and elsewhere, we can feel Swift taking a deep breath at the end of “loml” before putting on a brave face and stepping into “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart”.

One of the most highly anticipated tracks on the project, “I Can Do It With a Broken Heart” has a sound that is heartbreaking in its positivity, much like its lyrics, which detail having to glitter and shine for sold out stadium crowds during the Eras Tour while falling apart inside. Swift sings over what sounds like an in-ear piece, much like what she’d hear while she performs, and as her lyrics get louder and softer, we can physically feel what it must have been like to have to try to focus on a performance when your mind is reminding you of all of the things you are dealing with.

Other standouts include “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived,” “The Black Dog,” and “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?” — both of which capture anger like we’ve never heard it before. “I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)” reminds us that even as her fame skyrockets, Swift is still as relatable as ever, and “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” and “Down Bad” have us switching from crying to dancing throughout their lyrics. Then there’s “Clara Bow”, where Swift switches perspective and revisits ideas of fleeting fame and Hollywood’s treatment towards women as they age (“The Lucky One” and “Nothing New (ft. Phoebe Bridgers)”), name-dropping not only the original It-Girl but Stevie Nicks — who also wrote an introductory poem for the physical version of Tortured Poets — and, ultimately, herself.

As we move into the second part of the double album, we’re greeted in equal parts by lovestruck accounts (the swoon-worthy “So High School”) and heart-aching confusion (the haunting “How Did It End?”). “The Prophecy” is a particular standout, a raw and vulnerable plea for a greater power to rewrite the ending to her story, but by the closing number, “The Manuscript,” we’re pretty sure she’s rewriting it for herself.

The physical version also comes with a “summary poem” — but you’ll have to get it to read it yourself.

“This period of the author’s life is now over, the chapter closed and boarded up,” Swift shares on her Instagram. “There is nothing to avenge, no scores to settle once wounds have healed. And upon further reflection, a good number of them turned out to be self-inflicted. This writer is of the firm belief that our tears become holy in the form of ink on a page. Once we have spoken our saddest story, we can be free of it. And then all that’s left behind is the tortured poetry.”

We have now had Taylor Swift’s 11th studio album for almost a week, and still, every listen brings a new discovery. Replaying bridges and reading lyrics, dissecting references and researching characters, we’re in the library after hours and we’ll be here for a while. In a body of work that feels like no thoughts were left unsaid, Taylor Swift dissects the inner workings of her mind with a sharp pen and an empathy for all of life’s emotions. As she pieces herself back together after a period of turmoil, she lets us see the unfinished edges and spots where the glue hasn’t fully set — and in doing so, she reminds us of not only her poetic expertise and storytelling genius, but her ability to speak to a generation that craves understanding and connection, and the power that comes with feeling seen.