By Michaela Papa, Columnist
I like to think of Valentine's Day as a Groundhog's Day for people. Your heart wakes up, comes out of its cavern, exposed to the staring people it waits for the verdict. Is there a shadow, or will it be a very long winter ahead?
Though this may come as a surprise, I actually really enjoy Valentine's Day. It is a day in which cynics, despite their words saying otherwise, truly are most themselves. Despite plethora of chocolates and barren hearts in every window, the cynics still find a way to complain.
I would argue that Valentine's Day is, in fact, is their most favorite holiday of all. It allows for them to be in truest form. Nobody is allowed to be contemptuous on Christmas. Nobody gets to be resentful on Thanksgiving. Valentine's Day is the perfect holiday! Best yet---they're gaining followers!
This being said, every bitter person on Valentine's Day is likely a bitter person most other days of the year. Thus, this is just another day—but with lots more readily available chocolates and a lack of remorse upon consumption.
And so, those who believe in things like "romance" and reasoning such as, "because I love you," this is a day for you. You, like the cynics, get to be more yourself than ever. Indulge in the flowers of suitors and the kisses galore. For those who have somebody to share this holiday with, even better.
Though, would those who love Valentine's Day love it any more if they were single, or would they be the ones yet sending out Yahoo's Valentine's Day e- cards and buying catnip in a heart shape for their cats?
Valentine's Day revolves around chocolate and people showing their true colors—be it pink, red or black. Now enjoy this excessive poem I wrote in a reflection on Valentine's Day:
‘Twas the night before V-Day, when all ‘cross the land
Not a creature was happy, not woman nor man;
The hearts were hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that St. Valentine soon would be there;
The students were nestled right tight in their beds,
While visions of chocolates danced in their heads.
And roommates in their jammies, and I in my sweats,
Had just wagered all of our Valentine's bets.
When out in the courtyard arose such loud chaos,
I sprang from bed to see who may want to date us.
Away to the window I jumped to right quick,
Peered through broken blinds, did the window trick.
The moon on the breast of the old, dirty snow
Gave the idea of LI as you come or you go.
When, what to my sleep-deprived eyes should appear,
But a miniature man, and eight tiny heart spears.
With a little small diaper, so awkward and white,
I knew it was Cupid this Feb'rary night.
More rapid than heartbeats his insults they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called out mean names;
"Now, Lonely! Now, Single! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Clingy! On Stupid! On, Love-struck and Smitten!
To boxes of chocolates! To flowers short and tall!
Now cry in bed! Cry in bed! Cry in bed, all!"
As dry as the flowers saved from last year's Valentine,
When Cupid meets with the humans, he ne'er doth refine.
So up to the many--the singles and dating,
With arrows of sharpness, was St. Valentine waiting.
And then, in a moment, I heard in my cab'net
The chewing and swal'wing of chocolates now wet.
As I drew in my head, and was turning to see,
Cupid shot me with an arrow and laughed giddily.
He was dressed in a rag, from his hip to his thigh,
And he began to explain, and started on why.
A bundle of arrows he had flung on his back,
And he looked like an archer with a heart that was black.
His eyes- how they're hollow! His hair how curly!
His wings were so creepy, his lashes so girly!
His droll little mouth was drawn like the devil's,
Cupid then told me how to get on his level.
The tale that he told was of grandeur but truth,
And the words that he said all had plenty of proof.
He had a round face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed as he continued to tell me:
The lovers get a day of chocolates and flowers,
The cynics get a day of black shirts and scours.
A wink of his eye as he ate my last treat,
He told me the point's to indulge in the sweets.
Be it sweethearts or Sweet Hearts to each their fun,
You see Valentine's Day discriminates none.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, out the front door he chose.
He flew with his wings, as he turned and gave me a whistle,
And away he then flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he flew out of sight,
"Happy V-Day to all, and to all a good fight."