Another Valentine’s Day. Another sad and and lonely Valentine’s Day. Alone.
I have this dream. She’s a special girl, smart and funny and beautiful and sensitive. She’s out there somewhere. I’m pretty sure she’s somebody else’s dream. I still dream about her, though, pretending she likes me, every day. And I hope she’s happy. I still like to think of her as my Valentine.
Her name doesn’t matter. Not to anyone but me, anyway, because she doesn’t know who I am. Or care. Realizing that makes me real sad.
But that doesn’t matter. I’m not very important. And stuff like that doesn’t matter in dreams.
It was easy to fall in love with her.
I hope that wherever she is, she and whoever she finds special enough to spend it with have the happiest of Valentine’s Days.