We were born exactly one day apart. (OK, maybe not exactly if you take into account the time of night/day, but you know what I mean.) And every time I look at your face, I think I know what it’s like to grow up having the world watch your family like you’re a zoo animal. When all the pictures fly up to the glass window, shattering it, I know what it’s like to have a father who is so verbally abusive you wonder if he ever loved you, but you love him anyway because he’s your father. I know what it’s like to be seen as one of the hottest girls in the spotlight, the kind that every guy fantasizes about or is born looking like the girl guys want to cheat on their girlfriends with, who appears as if she has no idea of her hotness. When you’re this girl you bury your pain underneath sexy Maxim photo shoots and your choice of poison for the week. I hear the melancholiness in your voice as you sing about your beautiful life and feel your black hole struggles. It is precisely why some days when we were growing up, listening to pop music provided for literally the only positive messages I was hearing.
Oh wait. We’ve never met. Then I don’t know.