I don’t want any flowers. I don’t want any chocolate- and, no. It’s not because I’m afraid I’ll put on a couple pounds if I eat a bite of sugar.
I don’t want your heart-shaped things. I don’t want to dress in pink, because I hate pink, and you can’t give love a color.
I don’t want to turn the television on and see a million and one straight couples.
I don’t want to see the man give the woman flowers.
I don’t want to see the woman reduced to someone who just wants. Who feels oh-so-bad about herself if she doesn’t get flowers.
Because this is how society has raised us. Expecting to label our love with material things, with a price tag and a brand name. Expecting to color our lives pink and red for one day, pretending that colors and gifts makes us fall even deeper into love. Expecting to fall into a love-induced haze all day when, really, it’s just another day.
It’s just a day.
It doesn’t really mean anything, aside from what corporations have made it.
You will not chain me to your sugary pinkish red holiday, your sad attempt to celebrate love, but, usually, only straight love where the male is dominant.
Only the kind of love that you think is acceptable.