Today is the one day of the year when all your romantic notions come to die slow, brutal, merciless and ****** deaths and all one can do is stand by watching. On this day, each year, over the span of two decades, the hope and belief in such a holiday dwindles as time goes by. Bit by crumbling bit, the desires and the wishes of a hopeless romantic falls away into the abyss of nothingness and soon, I will be swallowed up by darkness— a skeptic, a cynic; bitter to my own lonely end.