It's hard to believe it's been over 20 years since Avril first burst onto the music scene with her debut album Let Go. The punk rock world was abuzz with the arrival of this feisty, rebellious teenage girl from Canada, with her snarky attitude. At first, she thought she had it all–the fame, the fortune, the adoration of millions.

But somewhere along the way, it all went wrong. Let Go and Under My Skin were both met with positive reviews, but some critics labeled her as a sell-out and a mainstream-bating response to the authentic punk movement. Meanwhile, the buying public looked down on her, though she strangely still managed to sell millions of albums.

Her worst nightmare? The punk community. In their eyes, she was not "one of them", but a teen pop poseur cashing in on their scene. They saw her chart-topping hits as a watered-down, commercialized version of what punk rock and emo were meant to be. Avril tried to tune out their scorn, but it stung.

Gone were the nights of playing country clubs and churches in her native Canada. Now Avril was headlining festivals and arenas, playing to a sea of screaming fans who barely knew her name. Any spirit or raw energy that had driven her in the first place before Arista Records signed her and Pink, she was getting lost in the spectacle of it all.

Avril watched helplessly as her early fans began to abandon her. By The Best Damn Thing in 2007, they were ranting about how she'd sold out and how her music had devolved into a hard-partying degenerate. She was no longer the pop rock or post-grunge underdog they had once idolized. She was a mainstream pop star, and that was unforgivable.

Avril tried to fight it by making piano ballads, namely "When You're Gone", that harkened back to her days as a young Christian girl. The critics sneered. Songs like "When You're Gone" and "Here's to Never Growing Up" were met with mixed reviews, and the critics said she was trying too hard. No matter what she did, she could never win them back. 2014's "Hello Kitty" was met with so much backlash that it proved to be the final nail in the coffin.

Now, over two decades later, Lavigne has found herself on a lonely tour bus, staring out at the grey highway, her thoughts swirling. She sold millions of records between 2002 and 2008 and performed in front of millions of people. But deep down, she knew it was all a hollow shell. She's a pop rock icon, but no one seems to actually like or remember her.

I think of all the other bands who've gone through the same thing. The ones who rose to mainstream success, namely the ones in the universally hated post-grunge scene, only to be crucified by the very people who once championed them. We're caught in a cruel paradox–our music brings us fame, but strips us of credibility and respect.

As I watch the miles fly by, I wonder what it would take for punk to be seen as music again, not just a pop imitation. To make music that moves people, not just music that sells. I don't know if punk even has it in itself. But I know it can try, because Avril Lavigne is not punk in the fucking slightest.

Because sometimes, being a punk isn't about the style or the sound. It's about staying true to yourself, no matter the cost. Lavigne never intended to do such a thing. And as much as she cared, or started to care, only about fame and fortune, there's no way she could possibly be struggling as much as I am. The punk community hates her. I sometimes call bullshit on her so-called "struggling" because of her status as a multimillionaire celebrity, but other times I show an inch of sympathy for her.

I've found out just recently that her life has spiraled out of control over the years. She got married and divorced, twice. She struggled with Lyme disease and mental health issues. She released music that flopped, that she seemed to phone in. The Avril that the tone-deaf buying public once knew has all but faded away.

Sometimes, her old fanbase wonders what happened to her, how she let herself fall so far. Avril had all the potential in the world, to make a real impact with her music. Instead, she squandered it, letting fame and fortune rule her life.

If only Avril had followed her own advice, maybe things would have turned out different. Maybe she would have stuck to what mattered most–her music, her message, her soul. Instead, Antonio L.A. Reid and a bunch of other music industry executives destroyed her and sold her back to the masses as a consumer product masquerading as punk. Avril Lavigne is a relic of the past, her legacy diminished by the choices she made. I can't help but feel a pang of sadness, for the artist she could have become. Her 2002 debut album Let Go wouldn't have been so goddamn pop-oriented or post-grunge-inspired had Avril not let these smiling executives tear away all her genuine grit.

Both her old and new fanbases tried to reach out to her, to be there as a friend. But Avril pushed them away, insisting she could do everything on her own, and she disappeared from the spotlight less than two years after the release of "Girlfriend". The party was over. Avril's fans scattered like rats from a sinking ship. Her once sold-out arena tour was half-empty. The tabloids barely even bother to cover her anymore. It's like she's vanished off the face of the earth.

The more interviews I read, the more I realize she's not even trying to relate to her old fanbase anymore. It's like she's cutting ties and running off with her new crowd of airhead followers (mostly Asians) who only care about her "irresistibly catchy hooks" and "killer style". I know I should just accept that artists grow and change over time. Not everyone stays the same angry rebel forever. But there's a difference between artistic evolution and flat out selling out. Joan Jett had something real to say. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, to stick it to the man. But Avril? She just made bubblegum fluff to line her pockets.

I scroll through her social media, watching her fawn over these clueless celebrity "friends" who probably couldn't name two or three songs from her first album. They post selfies together with outdated hashtags and vapid captions about how much they "slay". Meanwhile, the fans who've been there for her since day one are getting unfollowed and blocked. Any criticism, no matter how constructive, is met with angry lashes about being a "hater" who's "just jealous of her success and complaining about women in music".

It gets worse. On July 2, 2007, the Rubinoos frontman Tommy Dunbar and songwriter James Gangwer filed a lawsuit for infringement of copyright against Lavigne, Dr. Luke, RCA Records and Apple. Dunbar and Gangwer alleged that "Girlfriend" plagiarized the Rubinoos' 1979 single "I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend". Yes, folks, Avril was sued by Tommy and James for copyright infringement. That lawsuit most likely ruined her reputation.

The story was all over the tabloids, including NPR and the official Billboard website. Jaded fans ate it up like the hungriest hyenas. "See? We told you she sold out," they'd crow. Even her new followers were starting to turn on her, disgusted by her hypocrisy and punk posturing.

I'm almost too depressed to feel any schadenfreude. Almost. It's painful to watch Avril self-destruct like this. She threw it all away for lyrics that provided cheap thrills, similar to artists such as Katy Perry, and a flash-in-the-pan chart-topper.

I feel for her, in a way. It must be a lonely world, knowing you've spent the past few years pissing on the very people who made you. Knowing everyone who still supports/pretends to support you is now doing it out of pity rather than passion. I think about letting her fans reach out to her one last time. But then I remember her telling them not to lecture her. Maybe she's right. Maybe she never needed any of the masses, because there was far worse music at her peak that they preferred to gobble up like cotton candy instead. Maybe this was her plan all along–to topple from grace and disappear from the spotlight, to be forgotten as a flash-in-the-pan phony of the early 2000s.

She released more albums that received mixed reviews, her music evolving into a more electronic, stripped-back pop sound that felt uninspired. She was attacked by many who said she had sold out, that she was no longer the real deal. Avril took it hard, letting the negativity sink in and refusing to accept any criticism.

That's the story of Avril Lavigne, a cautionary tale of what happens when an industry plant lets music industry executives define them, rather than letting them shape their own path. I know she's still out there, making music and performing. But it's not the same for her fans. She lost herself somewhere along the way, and that's the real tragedy.

Fuck Avril. I'm not going to be her. I'm going to be the real deal, the underdog ready to shake things up all over again. Critics and audiences may forgive me way less than they have/used to with Avril, but at least I'll be able to forgive myself. I can't forgive her for being a sellout. Her music was, and is, atrocious.