Then on that last day he breaks...
Then on that last day he breaks… and he takes his life.
So it is Valentine’s Day.
Already I am reading and hearing remarks on how overrated and unnecessary it is, to declare or reiterate one’s undying love to his or her honeybun, the sugar pumpkin, the ‘salt in the stew, cream in my coffee’ – only on this one day made up of twenty four hours. Florists are getting a whole load of money from flower bouquets, and it would really be funny if I am to approach a florist today to see an empty vase marked ‘Roses’, and the florist merely shrugging and replied “No more stock!” in the typical brusque Chinese businesswoman manner. I believe that once I turned to walk away, she would hide her snicker and continue counting the amount of money received in conjunction with this ‘special’ day.
A little excitement in life would do us good. Of course, we singles tend to just roll our eyes and go “Yeah, but are you not suppose to pamper that special someone for the other 364 days in a year as well”. So what kind of important significance could this particular day possibly bring? It is not the only day when your sweetheart is supposed to shower gifts and kisses, nor is it the only day when your darling gives you hugs and say “I love you”.
I do not know, for I have not experienced the feeling which was supposed to make your heart skip a beat as he or she comes into view, make you go all warm and fuzzy inside. Someone who, as soon as you set your eyes on him or her, would make you feel nervous, jumpy, and have you stutter (then smack your head) when you attempt to make small conversation. His smile would make you melt faster than a ice-cream cone on a hot Sunday, her lips would have you bouncing off the wall like a deflating balloon. The person, who upon first sight, would take your breath away, and does not need any mental calculation in your head to decide that he, or she, is the right person for you to spend the rest of your life with – in other words, as cliched as it could be – the One.
See, that was only a general perception of what I have in regards to love. The emotions, the desire. The affection, the attraction. Valentine’s Day may have truly been valued too highly, but I do not think that those involved would really care about it being overrated. In fact, I believe some may have already been anticipating and itching to know of the surprises a loved one may have in store for him or her. Perhaps he would sneak a gift into my handbag. Perhaps she would leave something in the boot of my car. Maybe we can have a romantic dinner by the beach, the breeze gently blowing her long hair off her shoulders. Or we can just stare at the moon and the stars tonight, because I love to see them sparkle in his beautiful eyes.
And me? I take it as just another ordinary day.
Oh no, did I just sound like some hopeless romantic? Geezes.
On air now: Poetic Tragedy, The Used