An Open Letter to Miley Cyrus, From Me


I can’t help but reminisce on the days you were the “Best of Both Worlds”. You were cute, funny, talented and charismatic. Being someone like the Hannah Montana was every girls dream, including my own. You were able to balance your at-home life with the pressures of stardom… a truly respectable accomplishment. However, as you grew, we grew with you, and unfortunately you and I have grown apart. No longer do I recognize the girl in the YouTube clip preforming oral sex on a blow up doll at her concert… No longer do I idolize the talent within you as you belted out She Will Be Loved next to Liam Hemsworth in his truck… Let’s pause for a moment of silence for Liam… Girl, what were you thinking? Which Miley was the real Miley? I know heartbreaks are rough but do you blame Liam for falling in love with the carefree but sweet girl you used to be? Can you blame him for calling it off when you spiraled into a woman without boundaries whose main desire was to evoke sex appeal and scandal? I’m all for independence, but I’m confused… and he definitely must be too.

At first, I have to admit, I appreciated your new image. Bangerz was the most played album at my house for months. My roommates and I understood your need for change, for growth, for art, sexual freedom, and re-branding. However, now you’ve gone too far. What originally seemed an intelligent marketing scheme quickly became your reality.  You have claimed that you know exactly what you are doing and that all that you do is full of intent to remain relevant in the news. You have admitted to purposely stirring up controversy as a way to strengthen your stardom. However, scandal and rock bottom are two different things. While your main demographic is young adults like myself, your presence to a younger generation is still strong. Sadly I can promise you that I would never take my ten-year-old sister to your concert. She may know all the words to Wreaking Ball, but she is way too young to watch you touch yourself on stage as you dance with large, plastic, penises. By the way, what’s the point of that anyway?

It saddens me now to unfollow you on Instagram. Your posts were once filled with backstage access, family and celebrity friends. Now my newsfeed is bombarded by horrible edits of a baby-you plastered on the head of an alien, on a woman being spanked by Elvis Presley, on a piece of pizza laced with marijuana leaves. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore, and I’m sorry to say this but we’re through… it’s not me Miley, this time it’s you.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s