Waking up every morning, I make sure to brew a cup of coffee. Blood fills my veins, yet at this point, I am almost 90% sure that coffee has taken refuge in my blood stream. Operating on four cups of black drip coffee a day, I frequently get asked how I have not yet suffered from a heart attack. First and foremost I urge the inquirer to watch the Gilmore girls, for Lorelai and I are one in the same in regards to our coffee addictions. Coffee and I go way back, from early morning deadlines to powering my day, I feel as if coffee has become less of an energizer and more of a relaxing beverage. I am at the point where I feel immune, and that if I was to suffer from an untimely accident, my demise will be met elsewhere.

My statement is the prodded with further questions, but for the first time I was asked a question other than the typical judgemental inquiries, “What would be the cause of my demise?” Taken back by the complexity of the question, I responded with a simple word: Love.

With Valentine’s Day only a couple days away, I am celebrating in a matter deemed the most fitting, I am leaving the country. Dramatic in nature, I will be boarding a flight which will be taking me to the 30 degrees Los Angeles, California. Touring the city and engaging in the traditional tourist activities, I will be exploring the lives of the Kardashians.  This will be the first time I have boarded a plane since my exploration stint in Europe.

I think back to the Valentines Day of the past, both spent with someone I cared dearly about, and both ending up in failure.

You came out with poetic lies, lies that spoke to not only my physical self but my embodied mind.

There is such great pressure to be in a relationship during Valentines Day — a forced feeling of celebration meant to ease the singles into matrimony and a joint sense of self.  When single and in the city, Valentines Day becomes a day of self-pity and loathing, opposed to a day of celebration. Instead of engaging in lustful encounters, it is usually spent crying over black and white romantic comedies with a bowl of ramen. I begin to think: for the singles of the city, do you break the stigmas of valentines day and celebrate your unattached prerogative, or do you let the party of twos take precedence?

Waking up on the day of Valentines Day, I will once again be alarmed to still be breathing. With an utter lack of human interaction, I expected that I would have gone into comatose at this point. I can only take so many heart shaped chocolates before I have a meltdown. Clearly, whatever does not kill you makes you bitter.

As I wash my hands, I can not help but still feel dirty…covered with the scent of someone else unable to regain my own power. Filling my cupped hands with water, I douse my face. The cool drip of the water billows off of my temples and cascades down my face and into the sink. I look at myself in the mirror. Hollow cheeks, pale skin, and blue eyes stare back at me. As we move through the actions, I cannot help but picture someone else. I picture someone seemingly unknown, yet someone I know all to well.  As my mind and romanticized imagination strengthens, so does my admiration for Owen.

Walking down the corridor to my bedroom, the voice of Stevie Nicks fills the silence, the candle light casts shadows on the walls. Moving with the flames, the illuminated darkness leaves me watching the shadows dance before me. Laying in bed with my shirt astray, I lay sprawled out on the covers in nothing but my undergarments. Red wine infused and ash tray lit, I stare blankly at the ceiling wondering what you are up to, wondering what it is like to be traveling and wishing I was there exploring alongside you. I ask myself how it is possible to fall for someone who is so unattainable… emotionally available yet physically gone.

I’ll never learn about biochemistry, I’ll never learn why we can fall in and out of love, I’ll never learn why we fall for those we cannot be with, and I will never learn why a broken heart cannot be mended.

There are thousands of things that we have not learned, and in fact, there are millions of things that we will never  be able to understand, but if I have learned one thing, it is that acceptance is key. I have accepted that my past cannot be changed, I have accepted that love may not find me, I have accepted that not everyone has to reciprocate feelings, and I have accepted that the only true love I need to experience is the love of myself.

In the meantime, I must suffer through waiting and continuing on in romantic purgatory unable to make choices without diverged thinking. For those celebrating Valentines Day on the 14th, I wish you the best. For those who are single and not attached at this moment in time, I want to remind you that you are not defined by your attachment to another individual. If you want to go out for a special dinner with yourself on February 14th, I applaud you. Push your way through the crowds, and enjoy, for sometimes the best love is experienced within oneself.