Tomorrow, for those of us who are bothered by it, misery will reign supreme. That void which tears through hearts, minds, and souls, is rent to be even wider than previously. It is the only day that will cause people to break down yearly and want to cede their existences.
It’s an awful day.
And it’s meaningless.
And I hate it because of the void. Oh well, last year was good. Maybe next year will be better. (Doubtful.) I feel so emo…
… but I’m not. I’m just sick of this.
But tomorrow will pass, chocolates will be eaten, and roses will wilt, and I’ll laugh at everyone in relationships who save their love for this one pathetic day and they’ll go back to hating each other. Hah. Joke’s on them, not me this time.
(Remember what I’ve said: love is every day.)
Now if only the desire would come along to make me change my way. But I don’t want to put it all on the line… even if it’s not all of it and it’s most definitely not on a line.
There’s an octopus-shaped balloon holding five hearts with five tentacles… it’s anatomically incorrect. Octopus, not quintopus (or pentapus, whatever the root is.) The balloons will deflate, slowly, too… like the passion of love after the first time.
But it’s more than that, too, this year… more than this shilly little “love” thing. It’s about friends this year. It’s about the people who you hold in confidence, only to have it broken by some thoughtless friend and you wonder why you put up with them. And you shouldn’t. (And I won’t.) It’s about people who don’t respect you, who seem to take everyone opportunity they can to put you down in front of other people and you should be sick of taking it. (And I am.)
More than some confectionary treat with pink letters.
When I remember who my friends are, I become happy. But when I take into account who my friends are not… I become deflated.
14 February means alot more to me this year than in years past, but not as much as last year, for reasons you may know.
What does it mean to you?