Ah, what a beautiful day, today is. All the lovers around the world shower their love ones with chocolate, heart-shaped candy, cards, flowers, and hot-sex. Yet another February 14, and once again I am alone. This may not shock you; I hate Valentine's day.
When I was in elementary school, Valentine's day was fun and simple. All everyone was worried about was getting cards and candy. No one thought about girlfriends or boyfriends. It was a simpler time --girls had cooties. Towards the end of my six year tenure at my elementary school I started to develop crushes (one crush in particular, but thats a whole other story), nothing sexual of course, for sex was a very disgusting concept at the time. Then Middle school came along.
Middle school was a different story. I remember being in sixth grade when news spread around that a friend of mine was going out with a girl. This was shocking. For about a week I looked at my friend as a God, until a week later when a lot of my classmates had "hooked up." I started noticing a pattern: girls liked mean, dumb, athletic guys. This made me notice another thing: I did not (and still don't) fit into any of those categories. Since then I've had to witness girls I've liked receiving chocolates and flowers from a dumb, athletic guy, thus making the card that took me hours of worrying over (I wanted to look sweet, but I didn't want to look like an idiot when I delivered it) blissfully insignificant. It may seem hard to believe, but I was not always an ass-hole. I once was a nice, sweet guy. I guess constantly seeing my past crushes getting their hearts broken by a guy that was not me made me stop feeling sorry for them; I started to blame them. Looking back, this probably didn't help at all. I entered High School with this attitude.
The first two years of High School were an exact continuation of Middle School. I started acting like a jackass. Seeking attention, while avoiding it deep inside. "Maybe it would work" I would tell myself; But of course it didn't. I gave that up in eleventh grade (a horrible year, yet again a whole other story). Some would call it growing up, I would call it maturing (</egotistical ass-hole>). The only differences between Middle School and High School is that the gifts become more expensive, and people have sex. Girls still melt over the hot, athletic, ass-holes; while people like me sit in our dark corners, pondering how it must all be, while listening to OK Computer, and shedding a tear or two.
Now, senior year of High School, five months and ten days from adulthood. I sit here typing away, uncomfortably used to being alone. I am somewhat happy that this will be the last Valentine's day in school I will ever have. Next year I won't have to see all the happy people I secretely envy on days like this. Next year I will probably drive away to the desert or something, I haven't made my mind up yet, to avoid all the love crap.