One Of Those Days

 "It's just one of those days."

Don't you just hate those days? Those days you refer to when you say "those days"?

Valentine’s Day is just one of those days. Certainly not a holiday.

Actually, it is one of the days with the highest suicide rates. (Gee, I wonder why)

Valentine’s Day was made for the single people to feel insanely jealous of what they’re missing out on and the couples to show off the happiness that they have found in this awful, shallow generation. But doesn't that happen every day, anyway?

But before I go on, I must clarify that there are two types of single people. The first type is the people who haven’t been in a relationship for a few weeks, maybe months, possibly a year. I guess you could call them "dormant."

Then, there are the hopeless ones. These are the people who seem to have absolutely nothing figured out when it comes to romance and happiness going hand in hand. They’re incredibly behind in a world where everyone is racing ahead, and they can’t help but feel down about it. Not very often do I come across another single person like this in a world of couples and "dormant" single people. But when I do, I can’t help but feel my heart ache for them, because I know exactly how they feel. Trust me, I’m the one bringing the balloons and goodie bags to the pity party here. I’m not just taking pity on those poor, loveless schmucks. I am one of those poor loveless schmucks. I’m crying on their shoulders and they are crying on mine. But there seems to be a bit of a problem here...

There are no shoulders to cry on. I am alone here in the land of hopeless single people. Everywhere I turn, I see hands linked, lips locked, changed relationship statuses, big smiles. And I can’t help but be insanely, incredibly, painfully, horribly, pathetically, pitifully jealous. I am a pathetic fool who complains and complains about the happiness of others. And you know why?

Because I am awkward, naïve, unattractive. I have too much personality to go around, but no one cares about what’s below the surface anymore. It’s all tiny waistlines, Barbie-doll tits, long hair, pretty faces, and in most cases, a lack of brain cells. That is the ideal girlfriend of my generation. Kind of sick, isn't it? I have none of those qualities. Why am I punished for that, again? 

I can’t help that I am a fifteen-year-old girl in a world like this. I want so badly to skip this part of my life, the part when I’ll just never, ever be good enough for any guy. I want to wake up one morning and be done with this crap. I want to get to the good part of my life, if it even exists. But wait—shouldn’t this be the good part of my life? It seems to be that way for everyone else. I’ve always heard it said that your high school and college years are the best years of your life. But since I turned thirteen and started high school, I have been nothing but miserable ever since.

And the damn country I live in has a day to celebrate the reason I am miserable.

What is love, anyway? Do any of those happy couples that I envy so greatly actually share love? If not, what is it, anyway? Whatever it is, I want to get in on it. I mean, yes, there are different types of love. I love my parents a different way than I love my sister, I love my sister a different way than I love my friends, I love my friends a different way than I love my grandmothers. I love my grandmothers a different way than I love guys. (I should hope so) But from what I gather from any type of love, love is being comfortable with someone. Love is knowing that someone is there for you. Love is not looking past the bad things, just loving everything instead. Love is complex, and everyone loves differently.

I love my family in a love/hate sort of way. I love my friends in a strong, protective way. I love each guy I fall for in a different way, but usually, every time is fueled by the dreams of a dreamer, the quest for my first love.

Grey. I loved him in a he’s-so-amazing-and-talented-and-beautiful sort of way. I practically idolized him. I felt that nothing in the entire world even came close to the flawless aura of his existence. Light, I loved in a he’s-really-cute-and-he-seems-nice sort of way. But what started out as a tiny, meaningless crush exploded into a mess of Oh-my-God-I-need-you for no particular, logical, earthly reason. I loved Jordan in a way that was kind of new to me, because I actually knew him and talked to him. I fell in love with his outer appearance, and fell in love with his personality, but only the good parts. But then, I started seeing the bad things about him. Like how he is incredibly dull and I never had an intellectual conversation with him. Like how he dedicated so much time to hating everything. Like music, which was a ridiculous, waste of time sort of thing to do, plus the bands were all bands that I liked. And like how he said either "fuck" or "shit" in practically every sentence that came out of his mouth. Like how he gets drunk and smokes weed. And none of the good parts of his personality made up for any of the bad. He honestly is a  bit of a loser. A cute loser, but a loser nonetheless. I loved him and thought that the love was real, when it was all just physical attraction.

And then there was Floyd.

I don’t even know if I love him, honestly. I became attracted to his personality months before I made the decision to let myself have feelings for him. I loved how we had so much in common, how he always said things to make me laugh. Somewhere deep in my mind, like 20,000 leagues under the sea, far away from the ears and minds of anyone else, I confirmed it. I was indeed falling for him. After I was completely hooked on that loud, fearless, quirky personality, he became undoubtedly handsome. He did not magically become the most gorgeous guy in the world, but he may as well have. He’s attractive in his own way. He slowly became the only person I see in a crowded room. He became the latest victim of my wishful thinking and hopeless heart.

I’m not moonstruck. I'm not crazy. I'm not obsessed. (Yet) No, this feeling is something I feel almost sure of. But that alone scares the shit out of me. I want him to reciprocate my feelings. I want that a lot. I stopped denying my attraction and simply let myself dream. I’m starting to wonder if that was a mistake. Love leads to ruin.

Oops. I kind of ran away with my words a little there. (I do that) What was I talking about?

Oh, yeah. Valentine’s Day.

Eh. Never mind. Screw Valentine’s Day. I think I’m too content right now to let the happiness of others ruin my day. I’m not ignoring the fact that it’s Valentine’s Day. (How could I?) I’m just treating it like another day, another day to love, another day to laugh, another day to be frustrated, and another day that I will never get to live again. Might as well not spend it sulking.

Every time someone tells me to let love find me, the first word to pass my lips is usually "That," shortly followed by "is total bullshit." But maybe those words actually do mean something. I refuse to be the one chasing this time. I will patiently wait for him to notice that what he’s looking for is right in front of him. I will patiently wait for Superman to save the day.

Once upon a time, I asked David what he thought I was doing wrong, why I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ll never forget what he said.

"Show off your boobs more."

What boobs?

I was thoroughly disgusted by his answer, but laughed anyway, even though he wasn’t joking.

If being a slut is what it takes to be happy, I would rather be miserable.

I think I’d rather take the advice that Floyd gave Michelle, on that day when she had been interrogating him in the same way. It was the most civil thing he had said to her that day, and it really stuck with me.

"Watch as many sappy chick flicks as possible. Then, do the exact opposite of what they do."

I’m not going to watch any movies, because I hate sappy romance movies. I’m just not going to come on strongly. I’m not going to try persistently to win his heart. I’m not going to hope for something cliché, because Floyd just isn’t a cliché type of guy.

Hopefully, he’ll realize who is perfect for him in time.

Until then, be happy on Valentine’s Day. If I can do it, you can too.