Dear Amy Winehouse,
What the fuck is wrong with you?
I don’t understand! You are a successful recording artist, you are rich, you are famous, you are (debatably) attractive when you try to be. But WHY, Amy, are you such a fucking mess? And why does nobody seem to care that you are a certifiable crackhead who answers the door in her bra?
Do your parents just not care? Do they simply not want to take responsibility for the fact that you will undoubtedly be dead within the next six months? Your husband’s in jail, you cheat on him with drug dealers, and from the looks of it, you probably smell like rotten eggs and B.O. Am I going to have to come to England myself and fix you up? You could be so incredible. Your voice is honeyed and soul expounding.
I am begging you: please go to rehab. Listen to your father. Gain some weight. Lay off the crack. Don’t break with your record company: they seem to be the only ones who care about you getting clean, even if it is in order to boost sales and popularity. Stop opening your front door and fucking with the paparazzi. Stay inside. Go to the gym. Buy a new belt and shoes. Fuck, maybe even brush your hair! You are so much more than this. Every time I see you in the news you look like you were just born, and then run over by a truck. It doesn’t make sense. You have the ability to be so wonderful.
Clean yourself up. We’ll talk again soon.