Dear Lindsay Lohan,
It’s October 3rd and I’ve been putting this off for long enough. We need to talk.
Do you even remember making "Mean Girls"? Do you even remember the last, oh, I don’t know, five years of your life?
You can’t pretend that you don’t understand the effects of alcohol.
Or the fact that crack is, in fact, whack.
Still, you’ve been in and out of rehab five times, costing an estimated $150,000. Of course, as a former A-list celebrity, this kind of money probably isn’t an issue for you, right? Wrong. Because if you had any money, you wouldn’t feel the need to consistently steal jewelry.
Do you think you deserve it because you’re, like, really pretty?
You’re spiraling out of control. Scratch that, you’re post-spiral. Yet somehow, people still allow you to get behind the wheel, in spite of your bajillion car accidents. Didn’t you learn your lesson the hard way when Regina got hit by the bus?
I know you’re trying to play the innocent victim card and act like everybody is trying to ruin your life because you aren’t Amanda Bynes, but stop faking, you dirty little liar.
I just can’t do it anymore. I used to be a huge fan of yours in eighth grade. I know, right? It's so embarrassing. I don't even... Whatever.