Sitting in the movie theater in 2004, watching the hilarious Mean Girls (your last “good” movie. Seven years ago. Seven.), I never thought that Amanda Seyfried and Rachel McAdams would be the ones to have the kind of lasting career to which you aspired. You followed up Mean Girls with projects like Just My Luck, Georgia Rule, and, I guess . . . whiskey. And cocaine. And, you know, JAIL. It had to hurt watching Amanda and Rachel in films like Mamma Mia, Chloe, The Time Traveler’s Wife, and Sherlock Holmes, knowing that maybe, if things were better, if your life was more together, it could have been you up there. Hell, even Letters to Juliet and Morning Glory would have been acceptable. And those movies pretty much sucked . . . But not the I Know Who Killed Me type of suckage, mind you. That wound may never heal.
I used to know you as the fresh-faced girl, the one whose life seemed a perpetual Noxzema commercial — all smiles and freckles and genuine tans and Teen Choice Awards. I used to know you as a rising star, one whom Roger Ebert even compared to Jodie Foster. Now, I see you standing next to Victoria Gotti and it honestly takes me a second to figure out which one’s Victoria and which one’s Lindsay. The years of hard drinking and drugs and jail and mountains of stress have not been kind to you. This is not a good thing, LiLo. But my disappointment isn’t about your physical appearance, not really. No, to be perfectly honest, I feel betrayed, because you’re not the person you were supposed to be. You’re no longer the fresh-faced talented girl who works hard because she enjoys it. You’re no longer the put-together girl whom other girls can look up to. You’re no longer one of the brightest upcoming stars Hollywood has to offer. You have become, to be perfectly frank, a punchline.
This is not what we had in mind for The Parent Trap sequel.
Look, it’s not as if I haven’t given you a fair shake. I have. For what seems like forever. While people commented on your apparent lack of morality and judgment, your numerous run ins with the law, and — let’s face it — your apparent inability to accept any sort of responsibility for your actions whatsoever, I said, “You guys, she’s young. And she’s actually talented. Her parents suck. Just give her some time and she’ll bounce back. I have faith in Lindsay.” I sat with bated breath while I read the gossip columns, hearing about your various new film projects — I really wasn’t into your leggings idea, so let’s just skip that — thinking to myself, “Okay. Okay. She’ll be in this independent movie, it’ll be a nice jump-start to the rest of her career, and she can put all this unpleasantness behind her.” Then another controversy would flare up, or you’d be charged (again) with a crime, and you would no longer be involved with the project. I’ve been in defense of you since 2006, LiLo, and I just can’t do it anymore. No matter how morally bankrupt your parents are, no matter how much of a hard life you’ve had, it is ultimately your decision to suck out the poison and spit it out. It is your responsibility to accept your own actions and change them. But I just don’t think you’re really into that. I can’t defend someone who doesn’t seem to want to change. So, I’m out. Game over, man. Game over.
Here’s what I suggest: When you finally, finally get your shit together, drop out of the spotlight for awhile. Maybe even move abroad to one of the Nordic countries that no one really knows anything about. Instead of insisting that all you want to do is get back to work, take some active time off. Take some English lit. classes. Write some poetry. Learn to play the piano and/or guitar. Then, in a couple years, just when everyone is starting to ask, “Whatever happened to Lindsay Lohan?” you can star in some indie film that blows everyone away. Because I honestly think you have the power and ability to do that. For now, I’ll hitch my wagon to Emma Stone, an immensely talented, lovely girl who is the epitome of everything you should have been. My very dear friend Sarah — who, like me, has been one of your staunchest defenders — recently gave me the following advice: “She’s hurt us enough. It’s time to disengage.” And that is exactly what I intend to do.
TTYL, Linds. I hardly knew ye.