Hey, guys. We’re the fourteen-year-old girls of America. There are a lot of us, but we talk to each other. We’re on a group thread.

We hear that the president — who, for the record, you elected; we are not old enough to vote — has endorsed Roy Moore for Senate. Cool, cool. Roy Moore, the R. Kelly of Alabama.

Some of you don’t believe the allegations, which Moore denies. To which we say: Oooookay. And some of you think that even if they are true, it’s no big thing, because there’s nothing wrong with men in their thirties pursuing relationships with fourteen-year-olds, aka children.

As young girls, we feel like maybe now is a good time to just throw something out there. See if it sticks. A PSA to all grown men on the face of the Earth: We do not want to have sex with you.

We don’t want to kiss you. We don’t want to be touched by you. Not under the bra. Not over the bra. Not anywhere in the vicinity of our bras. Why are you thinking about our bras?

We waited on sending this out because we didn’t think this was, you know, world-shattering news. We thought everyone was on the same page here, re: having sex with children being an absolutely, unequivocally monstrous thing to do, just a disgusting abuse of power against the most vulnerable among us. But apparently you need a refresher. We’d recommend a subscription to Teen Vogue for the articles, but we’re worried about what you’d do with the pictures.

We think you’re struggling with the idea of being too old. Because this isn’t just about us being young — although, again, we are so young. Younger than the iPod. Those advertisements, with the colors and the silhouettes with the white headphone wires? Before our time.

But it’s not just about us. It’s about you, being ancient. You still think you’re so young, don’t you? Yeah… no. Each and every one of you is just wrinkled, withering proof that mortality comes for us all. If you remember where you were on 9/11, you’re too old for us. Did just thinking about that make you feel old? That’s because you’re old. You’re all a thousand to us. Your faces make us sad.

And you know what? Even if we seem interested — even if we SAY we’re into you — here is a cool idea: Don’t listen to us! Who lets an eighth grader just do whatever she wants? We also want to drive cars. We want to drink beer. We want to slap peanut butter on a Pop-Tart and call it a well-balanced breakfast. This Roy Moore guy, 100 percent, is the kind of dad who wouldn’t let his own daughter wear eyeliner, for fuck’s sake. So like, be the adult in the room. Okay? Don’t make us be the grown-ups here. We hate that.

Oh, and as long as we have your attention, we’re going to pass along a message from the fourteen-year-old boys in America: They’re not that into you, either.