If I Only Had a Heart

I would like to open tonight's post with a line from my favourite song just now (Squealing Pigs by Admiral Fellow): "it's that sinking feeling of being alone". And as I write this post on Valentine's night itself I feel a little bit like I'm sinking. Last night's post holds firm with no exceptions but there is a distinct feeling of being left out that seem all the more potent at this time of year. I had a really good day today for whatever reason. I was happier than I usually am, fooling around and laughing more than I would usually on a normal Tuesday and I'm not really sure why. I think I was feeling good after getting last night's post off of my chest because it all had to be said but now I sit here on my own wondering if there is a single drop of passion left in me. I'm hopefully going to find that out in the next 20 minutes or so.

The Commercialised Day of the Love Giving Obligation

After successfully securing my solitude for another year I feel, more than ever, to be qualified to deliver this post to you tonight. For the purposes of the this article you should strive to think of me as a half-eaten Kit-Kat or an odd sock because it will help you put it in some kind of context. This time last year (less one day) I wrote a similar post lambasting the commercialised day of the love giving obligation that is Valentine's day. Here I am again, a year on, still with a bee in my bonnet about it. The only issue is that I'm tired of digging my heels into things all of the time so the master-plan for this week is to give both sides of this story. Tonight's post is going to be all about the heel pressure and then Wednesday's post should ease it off somewhat - it's only fair. The only caveat that I serve to you about this whole thing is that this post promises to be much like a red rose: beautiful to some but prickly to others. Look away now if you think you're in love.