By Lizzie Logan
A terrible pun aside, the “Twilight” phenomenon is a real pain in the neck. For the few of you who don’t know, the Twilight Saga is a series of books about Bella Swan, a devastatingly beautiful and frail seventeen-year-old girl, who falls in love with the unspeakably handsome and immortal vampire, Edward Cullen. They love each other despite the fact that all of his vampire friends want to eat Bella. Throughout the books, Edward has to save Bella’s life over and over again because God forbid a woman should save herself; obviously she needs an immortal protector. An immortal protector with a habit of climbing in her window at night and watching her while she sleeps. Romantic!
Yet, I cannot speak to the quality of writing in these four books by Stephenie Meyer because I have never read them. How then do I know so much about the plot? For some reason, people are always talking to me about them. It may be hard to believe, but I truly do not care. For the love of interesting conversation topics, stop talking about Twilight! I have no interest in how much you just “want an Edward.” Speaking of teen boy virgins, stop talking about the Jonas Brothers, too. When I mention that I have not read Twilight and you decide that I must, therefore, prefer to talk about how Nick Jonas is so sensitive because he has diabetes … you are wrong.
What is it with girls and these unattainable guys? Edward Cullen does not exist. The Jonas Brothers have never met you and just like vampires, they cannot have sex with you.
This whole sensationalist attitude about Twilight is overblown and undeserved. I understand that these books are fun to read and obsess about, but I do not understand why Twilight fans cannot talk about it with other Twilight fans. Does something about my face say “I dig vamps?” Does my shirt have “Team Jacob” written on it? I think not and I highly doubt that anyone who has not read them gives half a hoot about how Robert Pattinson’s cousin’s lawyer’s dog once peed on your shoe.
If I do not ask about Twilight, please assume that I do not want to talk about it. You could learn to be immortal and subsist on blood and move to Forks, Washington and you would still never meet an Edward, so stop pining for him. On behalf of the rest of the sane people in this school, nay, in this world, who are sick and tired of hearing about the frail girl and the pale guy, I pray that “Twilight” may start to creep towards dusk and perhaps, finally its day will end.