Preface
I hesitate to write this entry with so much disgust on my mind and in my heart. I am afraid it sounds cynical and to some point, I look desperate.

To make matters clear, I am not desperate and lonely. Don't even think about unloved.

I'm nowhere close that.
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Roses are Red, not led.
(Disclaimer: This is NOT for the weak-hearted. The truth inevitablity hurts. I am trying to taper it with grace. You need a stomach big enough to handle some truths that I mention, esp. if you are a sucker that splurged over the last weekend. Any resemblance to persons, alive, (or sometimes better of)dead, or anywhere in between is purely coincidental.)

Every year, there is this unmarked date on most calendars, but it somehow feels like it is more important that the National Day of their soil. A day when everyone makes a big fuss about it, some months before it, trying their best to make it special, if not just more impressive, than most of their friends.

There's this one day where almost everyone defies logic and does the 'imagination-impossible' acts, where on a sane day, no one would even have that crossing their minds.

Let me draw you an 'How-much-logic' list, and you tell me:

How much logic is it:

- when a rose, I mean A rose, can cost $10?
- when you get dinner for you at $144, and they serve you what they usually do on other days, at probably half the price?
- when you try your best to make someone special to you, only special for that one day?

Its not an issue of being cheapstake. I can't help but feel sadden at how the turn of events in our affluent lives have become. We see splurging uneccessarily on someone as loving someone. We have reached a point where we are trying to tell someone that what I spend no you, is your value.

How special can a girl feel when she walks down the street, arms in arms with her boyfriend, holding a nice bouquet of roses; and everyone else on the street is doing the same. Perhaps some with even bigger bouquets.

Of course, I was inevitabily asked how I spent my Valentine's day, and the shock I see on their faces when I said I don't believe in it.

When people can tell me its special to commemorate love, I can only tell you that it is sad that you remember love once a year. It is even sadder than you act on love once a year.

After all these years, I can boldly conclude that, cynical it may sound, but..

"V-day is for ppl who weren't romantic throughout the year to make up at such unnecessary extravagance"

The true and purest expression of love, has been stained by our imperfection.