When I was in middle school, I had a black shirt with a skull and crossbones on it, and that was my Valentine’s Day shirt. My mom used to get mad at me, telling me that I shouldn’t be so negative. She said I didn’t need to be in love to have fun on Valentine’s Day. I responded by stating facts about Hallmark and capitalism, explaining how the holiday was a scheme for companies to get money, and drilling other middle schooler angst I could make up at the time to make me sound smarter than I was. Years later, I still believe what I told my mom, but I also believe what she said. You don’t need to be in love on Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to be about other people and celebrating shared love;rather, it can be a day where I proudly stand by myself with the decision to spend Valentine’s Day alone. A day where I can be positive about the future and live with the unlimited options life has given me in the present. This wasn’t always the mindset I had, if not obvious from my skull and crossbones in a sea of red and pink.
If you were to ask the people closest to me, independent would be the one word used to describe me. I like being able to do what I want without concerning myself with other people. However, this independence has been a curse when it comes to Valentine’s Day and love. I often don’t invest myself into potential relationships or I move on too quickly, never forming a real connection with anyone. This was deeply saddening to me as I watched my friends get boyfriends and go on dates; I would stay in my room with books as my companion instead of acknowledging the loneliness I felt. I grew bitter, and my distaste for relationships grew into something that consumed my personality. Without being aware of it, I allowed my bitterness to dictate me more than my independence. I assumed I was negative due to my independence, due to the fact that no one around me liked how I could be on my own. It never occurred to me that I could be the problem.
It came together when I couldn’t be happy for others. I would see my friends getting involved with interesting people, and they wouldn’t be able to stop talking about how great things were going, and I was annoyed. It took me by surprise. My friends mean the world to me, and I want nothing for them except happiness, and when they were on their way to achieving it, I just rolled my eyes. Through this, my independence became a clutch. It was the answer to everything: why I wasn’t hanging out with people, why I never opened up to anyone, why I closed my life off and pushed away the people who cared. My independence suddenly didn’t become a choice but the only option. I wasn’t invited out. No one answered my texts. I went to prom alone because a boy who would’ve asked told me didn’t because he didn’t want to go with someone who was going to be adverse the whole time. I isolated myself in my independence, and I grew to hate alone time.
I thought a lot about my skull Valentine’s Day shirt during this period by myself. I wondered if it was necessary. I wished my mom had told me to change, and yet, I think she didn’t because she knew I had to realize what message I was sending on my own. I have a theory where people can advise you against something until they are blue in the face, but until you understand how you’re feeling, nothing will change. My mom could’ve made me change and I would’ve gone to school bitter and angry anyway, just over something different than originally planned. Insecurity drove my attitude towards Valentine’s Day and companionship for a lot of my life, and it was only when I truly felt alone that I was able to gain perspective. Independence can be a good thing to have, but it can’t be the only answer. In a world where people need people, independence can be powerful in aspects of life and thought but it can also be secluding. There is a balance that must be found.
I am very proud of my independence. I think and act for myself without fussing about what others might dislike. Some times, it is too much, but I have learned to tame it. I am in control of my independence again, and with control, I let go of my negativity.
Valentine’s Day can be a celebration for any type of love. I could spend the evening with my dearest high school friends and not even think about an absence of romance in my life. I could go about the day as if it is no different than any other day of the week. I could be traveling the world and celebrating the birthday of my good friend without even realizing it is a Hallmark holiday. I have grown to understand what it is like to be single and in control of my life. My negative relationship with Valentine’s Day and love is the longest relationship I have ever had, and I will admit it. I will also proudly say that I have broken up with negativity, and I can’t wait to fall in love.
Much as this have changed, relationships and love can wait for me. I am still dangerously independent, and I want to know the positive effects of that before moving on. This Valentine’s Day, I am single and happy about it. I am happy for people who share the consumerism trap together, but I don’t need that. I have myself and my happiness, and that’s the only Valentine I need at this stage in my life.