Valentine's Eve

Alright it's friggin Valentine's Eve and I'm in a bad mood to start with. Well how the hell can I not? With the Passion Play going to hell, every drop of blood in my vein is burning at boiling point. It's @#ing fiasco! And now, we are talking major changes.. this late!? Hell no, we're all going to bury ourselves. My mood couldn't possibly had gone worse. That was until I realized it was frigging Valentine's Day Eve. Whoopde-#$^&$ing-doo!
You know, I never really liked the holiday all that much, but I never really hated it. That was until today. Now I'm loathing it. I just realized again how much I love her and how on this day of all days I'm powerless to do anything about it. I want to do so many things for her, just to make her smile or laugh, to help ease the problems that plague her to do anything for her. But I don't have that right, I don't deserve that right. I really want to send her flowers, even single simple rose, just to let out a touch of the fire inside killing me slowly from the heart. But I'm afraid dammit, last time I tried to show my feelings I failed miserably and nearly permenantly turned what was barely hangin of our friendly relationship into shreds, and now that I've managed to salvage what I can Iam in danger of falling for it again. But if I choose to be safe, would I regret it? The answer is yes. I'll hate myself for being a damn coward and chickening out of giving at least a bit of the love I want to give her. It twists me, turns me. It destroys me. It is the unconceivable, the irredeemable. It is a catastrophe, a plague. It is a blessing, a gift. It is love. I hate Valentine's Day.
.....
Tomorrow morning. I'll buy a rose. A single rose. And I'll keep it in my bag. I'll hold it as she sings. And if I find my courage, I'll give it to her, albeit anonymously. Although deep down, I know that she'll know who it would come from. And more than anything else, that's what scares me....

All this... in a tremendously busy Valentine's Day Eve.

#%^# you Cupid...