I don't have anything relevant to write about on this holiday. I'm not bitter about the state of love in this world. I'm not particularly excited about it either, but I don't have any rants I need to get off my chest here. This is me, letting you know up front that I probably don't have much to say in this post. Really, turn around and go back. Find another page to read. You're not going to find anything you're looking for here.
Still here? Okay then. I guess I should have some things I'd like to say then.
I don't have a problem with Valentine's Day. Not even a little. The flowers, the candy, the romance, none of it really bothers me. It doesn't even bother me that everyone else is getting their fair share of it and I spent the morning at three different optometrists. Things need to get done, even on national holidays.
In better circumstances, sure, I probably wouldn't be in my pajamas at 3:00 in the afternoon, but that just wasn't the hand I was dealt. I can't blame anyone in particular for it. There's not some malicious plan to keep me alone forever as far as I'm aware. It's what happened. It's life.
It's that I'm probably supposed to be feeling more than I am today. I should be angry at someone for leaving me alone. I should be desperately calling someone to tell them I love them. I should be feeling something about this holiday. I should hate it or I should love it.
It's all of this in-between stuff that I can't take.
Pain is bad and happiness is good. Both of those are obvious. But what of that land that lies between the two? You can't feel bad about not feeling anything, can you? Can you feel good about it?