It’s coming. I see it on the event horizon. It’s that time of the year where everyone goes all lovey dovey again. And what do I get. The shaft. Instead of getting my shaft worked over. I’m not planning on anything this Valentine’s Day except getting drunk over the Internet with a few of my closest personal friends. And maybe a few brothers later that night. I’m tired of this holiday. It’s just meant so people that already feel good about themselves and the relationship they are in can feel even better. So what does that leave me, the relationship-less, down-on-his-spirits, college student? With nada. And really, I expected no more. But it would have been nice that for once in my 19 years of existence so far on this wretched planet that I would have had ONE good Valentine’s Day. The first 15 were spent with kids in class, passing out those small, folded, throw-em-away-tomorrow, cardboard Valentines, passing a little sentiment on to the receiver. The 16th was spent with my love of the time, the ever engrained in my memory, Brandi. We exchanged gifts, a little spit, and went on about our ways. Two days later, she broke up with me for the second time in our relationship career. The 17th was spent in the same solace as the first 15, pining over having no love, and wishing to give freely to the ones I thought I loved. The 18th, spent again with Brandi, mainly fighting for the whole day over where we were going, or what we were doing, no real resolution found, just a simple “Do whatever you want.” on the part of each other. I ended up heading to Lexington that day with her, and after she complained that I had bought her nothing to give to her on that day, I was forced to purchase some little token of my love, and in return, received a copy of “Romance for Dummies”, the pocket version. After feuding over this, and returning home, I called her, told her I loved her, and went to bed. And now, we have my 19th, this fond Valentine’s that I will be spending here in a week. To it, I say “Fuck Off”. I won’t be happy, there will be no love or joy for me, just another continuation of all the ones I have experienced before. And that, dear friends, is a tragedy.