Lately, my life has felt like one of those hilariously low budget Life Alert commercials being played on a constant loop. Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up. Rewind. Help. Like, seriously. I’ve fallen in love and I can’t get up.
Over the summer, I was visiting one of my close friends, Kendra, in Seattle. While discussing incredibly deep topics like fuckboys, fuck toys, and everything in between, Bieber came up.
“He’s on my list of people I’d love to have sex with, and then immediately punch in the face,” Kendra joked, and I laughed in agreement. Yeah, totally. What a douchebag. What a total douchebag.
EXCEPT I THINK I WAS WRONG???? Because here I am, having weirdly romantic dreams that he and I are walking through Target together and he buys me Midol because I’m having terrible menstrual cramps.
I’m not okay. I’m sitting here, with my little sister on the couch watching The Ellen Degeneres Show, and my mouth is gaping open. Flies are probably buzzing in there. I’m just like, in awe. I know Bieber has always been an attractive fella. And clearly very talented. It’s not as if I just discovered some brand new planet. This isn’t BRAND NEW INFORMATION. I’ve seen the boy before. So why now?
WHY CAN’T I STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM?
Even with that awful platinum hair thing he did, I’m still saying, “Mhm. You’re sorry. I forgive you. Yes. Yes, I take you back,” to the radio. Why am I emotional over these (fantastic) simp anthems about Selena? Why did I order the deluxe version of his album?
I don’t know, my friends. I don’t have the answers. I’m not Alex Trebek. But I think I might be a Belieber now. And it’s time for me to live my truth. 
