By Aly Gordon

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As I strolled through the doors of sophomore Maddie Wallace’s seemingly ordinary bedroom, I could not help but feel as though something—or someone—was watching me. A looming presence, staring with a pair of daunting (yet slightly dreamy) eyes. In a matter of seconds, though, with a mere twist of my head, I realized that these vigilant eyes belonged to none other than Justin Bieber. Her wall was covered with posters of the hoodie-clad popstar, his smile “lighting up the room,” as she so insisted. At this point, my suspicions were mounting— Could she have… Bieber Fever?

This raging illness, as many already know, spreads like wildfire— quickly and without warning.

The first symptoms are dangerously subtle. As you sit in your car, casually listening to WNCI, a Bieber song, with its upbeat melody and infectious chorus, begins to play. By simply opening your mouth to sing along, you render yourself vulnerable to the Fever— you’ve been hooked. Once infected with the Fever, many find themselves glued to their computer screen, transfixed by pictures of Bieber’s glossy brown mane or by his “inspirational” music videos.

We all know someone who has fallen victim to Bieber Fever. However, those unscathed by the illness may ask themselves, “Why? What’s so special about him?” To that, Bieber fans respond with a haughty eye roll and a snooty smirk that screams, “Are you serious!?” To those with the Fever, Bieber is like a Greek God— like cocaine to a drug addict, like meat to a ravenous lion. While his purple hoodie and pearly whites are an important part of the equation, his hair is what really gets his fans going. Once exposed to his lustrous chestnut locks (what many refer to as “perfection in hair form”) the drool-fest fast commences.

Despite claims that Bieber’s voice is “like a combination of Fergie and Jesus,” some people (primarily the male specimen) adamantly protest Bieber Fever. While I’m sure many males genuinely despise Bieber, I’m also fairly certain that their ridicule stems from an entirely different force: jealousy. After seeing mobs of hormonal girls chasing the pop star, it’s understandable that boys would feel inadequate, worthless. In fact, they may even begin to question their own masculinity.

As Bieber Fever runs rampant across the nation, a cure is being heavily researched— not only by scientists, but by gaggles of gangly teenage boys as well. Though their efforts are certainly valuable, I personally believe that we must let Bieber Fever run its course. Simply look at past examples of hyped-up pop stars— the Jonas Brothers, Aaron Carter, N Sync— all of whom are now either forgotten, on drugs, or starring in some VH1 reality show. With this in mind, I suspect Bieber Fever is nearly over; however, when Bieber’s reign comes to an end, we must ask ourselves: Who will rise from his demise?