It is once again that time of the year where bright shining pink confetti flies high in the sky, red heart-shaped balloons cramp every corner in sight and the ever-pleasant smell of chocolate clogs the air. Yes, it is that time of the year again, the most beloved and dreaded day, Valentine’s.

I made my way through the labyrinth of long pink, red, and white strips of shiny foil, the dense forests of roses, and the zoo of an assortment of stuffed animals. I push past the couples holding each other in such a deadlock it would be impossible to separate them without a crowbar. I hear the joyful screams of some getting confessed to, the triumphant grunts of others, and the disgusting sound of lips connecting.

Making my way up to my class, I slip on the slippery silver floor of used candy wrappers, earning myself a chocolate kiss on the cheek. Wiping it off, I now venture past a more familiar scene. People curl up into a ball, a sea of sadness surrounding their island of regret. Crushed roses, dreams, and heart-shaped chocolate boxes litter the floor. The air is filled with ‘what could’ve been’s’, ‘why did I do that’s’, and ‘can we please go back’s’.

I slide into my chair, looking at my classmates and finding their ones, while I sit there alone, still waiting for someone.