In homeroom, my advisor told us a story. Not just any story…the story of how Valentine’s Day came into existence. I know what you’re thinking. “Wasn’t it just a mean prank that all the couples of the world came up with to torture the single people?” Well, yeah, I guess that’s what it has become. But apparently, in the beginning, it was because some rebel named Valentine married people even though Caesar, the big cheese, said not to. This led to his execution, which then became a holiday. So the real question is, what are we really celebrating here? I’ll leave that one up to you.

I like Valentine’s Day. It’s sort of fun, especially when you’re in lower school (which I’m not, although that would be impressive). Why do I like it, you ask? Because everyone in the class was forced to give everyone else a Valentine’s Day card, which meant a lot of lollipops and Hershey’s Kisses and “To Ben, from Mary” scribbled quickly on a tiny piece of cardboard shaped like a Disney princess, followed by a minor misunderstanding and a broken heart. Lower school was rough for me, guys. Pretty rough.

But then, there’s middle school. That hell hole which doesn’t seem bad when you’re living it, but when it’s over, you look back on what a total loser you were. What’s that? I’m in middle school? Shh, c’mon dude, I’m trying to act mature, here! I can’t have my readers know my age, that would be creepy! Anyway, in middle school, all that bulldookey ends, and you’re forced to accept the truth: you’re all alone. Unless you’re cool, and have a date, in which case, shut up. You’re not represented in modern literature. Go post something on Instagram.

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