Dear All Other Women in the World,

Sorry if me getting back together with Chris Brown puts you in danger.

I know it looks bad, me and Breezy all hugged up again. On our way to the chapel, even, rumors have it! (Who could have said that?!) What with those horrible pictures of what he did to my face still so fresh in everybody’s memory. Kinda send a weird message, huh? Like that domestic violence is maybe, sort-of more “okay” than it is?  

But hey, you know what they say: “The heart wants what the heart wants.” Well, at least that’s what a 56-year-old movie director says when he dumps his girlfriend of 12 years to marry her 19-year-old daughter. But it’s sort of the same for me and Woody—we know it doesn’t look good. But it just feels so right. What are you gonna do?

Well, yeah, I guess one thing you could do is not flaunt it quite so much. I know it’s silly when I get baked and I start putting pictures of me and Chris, like, bent over the hood of his car out on Instagram. I know the world doesn’t really “need” to see that. Some people make an effort to keep their private lives private. That’s just not really my thing.

It’s not my thing, because I’m smart. My music is going to make me money, sure. But you know what’s going to make me more money? The kind of crazy world-level of fame that comes with escandalo! No one’s making money off music anymore. It’s all about reality shows and that tabloid life, baby! I know where my bread’s buttered. And if that just so happens to line up with my sexual preference for “bad boys” and whatever twisted masochistic psychology has apparently resulted from my becoming a pop star as a teenager, well, all the better.

So, sorry. But also, sorry for not being sorry, y’know? I know it’s fucked up. That’s the way the world is, though, isn’t it?