Yeah, so. Valentine's day was whack this year. I didn't have anyone to share it with nor did I end up locking lips with a random stranger...not that I would (lie).
I'm not saying I miss love. I don't miss love. I don't miss it at all. The love letters. The cute looks and longing gazes. Holding hands...thinking each other's poop is cute.
Sigh. Who the hell am I kidding?
I miss all that shiznit and I can't even front. It's nice. Real supa dupa freakin' nice. I'm a romantic at my core. I love American President. I love the thought of marrying a woman, having kids, and farting in bed as we fall asleep in our old age.
Forreal: Who doesn't love to love? And, for all of those who say you don't, you're in denial.
I spent Valentine's Day with my favorite gay. It was fabulous except I had too much tequilla. I won't go into detail. Then, it was my bday (the 15th) and everyone bought me drinks. I was in oblivion. But, not the good one.
Look. As much of a romantic I am deep down, I'm also scared shiznitless by the thought of being loved for who I am. It's a massive amount of pressure to be with someone who sees right through you and still doesn't care how imperfect you are.
This is a part of growing and maturing as a young woman. Getting comfortable in my own skin and with how unique I am in my own way. It's still tough, ya know, seeing how much growth there is that needs to happen. But hey, this is a part of life and the journey, right?
Next year I strive for a happier and more fulfilling Valentine's Day, even if I am alone. And, I wish that for you as well.
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