It's February 7th. That means a week until Valentine's Day. Already, the bombardment of everything from Hallmark ads to posters on campus detailing all the V-Day activities is bugging me. I hate Valentine's Day for exactly what it symbolizes to me: the fact that, for nineteen years, I've been alone.

All of my friends have someone. Hell, by this point, a few of them have even gotten engaged! I'm happy for them, of course. It's great that they have someone. I just wish that I could feel that way, too. Come February 14th, I'll be sitting in my room, reading a book, while everyone else has fun with their significant other. It sucks. It's depressing being that one guy who feels left out.

Normally, I'm OK being single. In fact, I usually feel that I'm better off without having to deal with a relationship. Then days like this come along and remind me that I hate it. I wonder if my normal attitude towards being single is just a psychological cover? I have no choice but to think that the only reason I think that I'm usually happy single is because I've subconsciously come to the conclusion that I'll never be any other way. I can't convince anyone to like me.