My first post of 2017 isn’t poetry, and I’m sorry for that. Here’s the first of many late night ramble posts.
So tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and I don’t have a valentine. Contrary to popular belief, this is completely okay with me. I spent this day last year chatting with online friends and eating chocolate, and something tells me that things probably won’t be much different this year. Honestly, it’s not as sad and lonely as everyone makes it sound. It’s actually quite nice, and makes for a good excuse to pamper yourself (even though you shouldn’t need one), especially if you’re one to subconsciously practice self-loathing on a daily basis. While I can recognize the worth of the holiday’s alternate title of Singles’ Appreciation Day, I have to say that I don’t quite like the melancholic cloud that seems to loom over whenever someone talks about it. I don’t like how being single has become attributed with being worthless or sad or boring. The single life is great, and there’s nothing worse than someone who can’t see that because they’re too preoccupied with trying to find their soulmate. There’s literally only one thing better than being single: being single and “crush-less.”
Liking someone is irritating. You think about them when you don’t want to. You look at them when you don’t realize you are. You want to know more about them than they are actually willing to reveal to you. It’s something like a curse, and one that only turns into a blessing if the same someone that has plagued you has been cursed in the same way as you, towards you. This occurrence, I’ve noticed, only happens every once in a blue moon, when you play your cards right and luck is on your side. To adore someone is to gamble. To tell that someone that you adore them is to you go all in.
Thankfully, I’ve reached a point where the fleeting infatuation for the last person I found extraordinarily interesting has died down. I can sigh in relief. I think I’ve safely made my way back to the reality I’m used to; no more distractions or impulsive decisions or random daydreaming. I’m back to the drawing board. This is where I began, and I like it. I can focus again, on anything and everything else that matters to me. After all, I told myself that this year, I’d care more about the girl I see in the mirror every morning. She deserves it. She’s been working hard. She isn’t hiding bloody wrists. She isn’t hooked up to an IV. She isn’t giving too much of herself away, only to find that she left nothing for herself. She’s alive and trying, which is more than I could have ever asked for.
I’ll be my own valentine, and there is nothing sad about that.