Blueberry And Chocolate Chip Pancakes

Valentine's Day is a dreadful day.

     Some say it's just another Thursday, but that is a rotten lie.  Valentine's Day is 24 hours of reverberations of love and affection and enchantment, unless, of course, you are unwanted, unlovable, untouchable.  Then, yes, this day can be particularly unpleasant. 

     I feel as though I am that one cream-filled chocolate in those little heart shaped boxes, the one that everyone hates, the ones with the revolting orange goop inside, like the kind of surprise you wish you could wrap back up and forget you opened. 

     I am that girl.  The one everyone wishes they could wash their hands of. 

     People see me, speak to me, fill me with a sense of hope, and then stomp on my stupid dream of being wanted.  They throw me back in the heart shaped box as if I am nothing. 

     I have been treated so long, and I have been treated so wrong. 

     I know not what it would feel like to be held, to be someones sun and sky, to be cherished. 

     I am so tired of people decided when I am allowed to be their friend.  I am convenient.  I am always available.  I jump at the thought of being wanted. 

     And they so shamelessly take advantage of me. 

     Not for long.

     I will no longer be a toy that is only chosen when everyone else is taken.  I will not be anyone's last resort.  I am sick of being the doll everyone drags around when they need a friend and then toss to the side when I am no longer new and beautiful.

     Is it so wrong to want someone to love me?  Is it so bad to want blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes?

     I am so easily forgotten.  So easily overlooked. 

     I don't want to be that girl anymore. 

     I want to be beautiful, and I don't care if it hurts; I want control. 

     I want to be the one who can say, "No, I don't feel like being used."  I want to be a stoic, unfeeling mannequin that is gracefully beautiful and alarmingly alluring, yet untouchable and phlegmatic. 

     I want to be the one with the power; not the one who's emotions are so readily toyed with. 

     But that will never happen.  I value affection, even affection that is intangible and masochistic, too much to let even a moment of it slip through my fingers. 

     Is it better to be used than forgotten entirely, if the truth is that no even cared to know you at all?

     Their attention, their sweet words, their tender sentiment.... is it all lies?