Not another Valentine's Day. I mean, who would be retarded enough to come up with such a lame excuse of sick commercial gimmickry? Call me cynical because I guess I am. Valentine's Day is yet another torture device for people who just don't happen to be happily coupled-up come February 14. Obviously I'd be singing a much different song had certain things been different in certain ways, and I admit that (yes, I do!).

Denial, denial, denial. Over four months of relentless denial and you know what? Didn't quite work out for me. And the worst thing about is that, while I am sitting here in my room, my fingers tapping away feverishly, my mind racing through those few memories, he doesn't care at all. Not at all. Why am I the one left all alone with my heart bleeding all over the place? I have so many questions, so many what-ifs, so many should-have-beens and could-have-beens. I know there's no one else to blame but myself. It was a terrible lapse of my better judgment and now I'm paying for it. I allowed myself to get carried away. I allowed myself to be deluded that maybe, just maybe, things might work out. I allowed myself to be so open and vulnerable.

I lost something I will never get back. I lost something to a person I will never hear from again.

And what's even worse is that I don't regret any of it. In fact I choose to cherish the memory of it, trying to preserve its picture-perfect image in my mind. I know it was just a snapshot, a preview you might say, of even better things to come.

But until then, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me.