"No, Justin Beiber, you're not in love with that girl. You're twelve."- God.
Okay, I understand that he's my age, though awkwardly prepubescent. And I have to give him credit for his success; I'm sure that it fuels an intensely burning envy in the pit of my generation. And he's a cootie infestation and whatnot. But of all things, God, who is to say that twelve-year-olds can't love?
Okay, someone needs to smite me for standing up for Beiber, but this isn't about him at all. This is about the fidgety topic of prepubescent love. And I'm not talking about the Loofah Girl, you wacky locals.
I once had a friendly debate over this very topic with Emma. She was, as most are, doubtful that tween love was the real deal. When put into scientific terms, love is just a chemical released by the brain that makes you feel, for the lack of a better term, happy. It's a proven fact. After some thought, it can be safely assumed that love solely exists as a means for a couple to stay together long enough to raise a kid. Of course, that's in the terms of cold and unbiased science.
So are all 12-year-olds incapable of releasing a little love juice from their thinking caps? It sounds so much easier to grasp when I say it like that.
Because, as we teens all understand, love is a pretty hurly-burly word to be throwing around.
No comments:
Post a Comment