Secretly, I love Valentine's Day. Pretty strange, huh, to enjoy a holiday devoted entirely to the commercialization of love. Still, I love it: not because of what Valentine's Day is about, not even because of the chocolate, really, but all because the time of year. Right around February 14th my winter blues begin to turn into spring fever.
Valentine's Day 2006 was the last and only time I had an actual Valentine. The boy who would later become my boyfriend brought me a rose, a card, and chocolate. To tell you the truth, I've always been rather uncomfortable with such expressions of affection, but, on the other hand, that was the first time someone had honestly admitted their feelings for me, so I always smile when I remember that.
Valentine's Day 2007 was another life-changing day. I was in a deep bout of depression and self-harm that year, and February 13th, reminiscing on the previous year and the boy that was no longer mine, I had the worst episode of cutting in my entire life. It was that night, as I was recovering from my fit, that it hit me. I was being ridiculous. Now, it's not that I magically turned around and was happy after that moment (some of my saddest poetry was written that year after that day), but it was then that I realized that I need to recover, and I set my intention in the right direction. Thus, I'm especially happy that To Write Love On Her Arms Day always comes right before Valentines Day (February 12th and 13th this year).
I'm expecting a similar turn-around this year. It has been a tough winter, but I can see spring right over the horizon. To my surprise, I'm expecting this to be an amazing weekend, and am in a very optimistic mood.