Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Heart-Shaped Stickers of Horror

I have four tattoos and sixteen piercings. I like black nail polish, but also calypso blue and hot pink. I'm short and round and I wear glasses. My hair never makes it much further than my shoulders before I chop it off and I've been at least six different hair colors in the last two months. In high school I was a bookworm, but I didn't go to college. I was an administrative assistant to someone important at a hospital, but I quit the high-paying gig because it made me crazy. I have an unnatural obsession with scarves, leather-bound journals, and fedoras. I believe firmly in glitter and hair bows; preferably when put together. I walk like an old woman because of a chronic pain problem from a nasty horseback riding incident. But I still ride.

Most importantly, I am a writer. And no matter how often the other things change, that fact never does. I haven't written in months. I haven't done any serious writing in longer than that. And if you asked me when I was going to get the ten novels hiding on my hard drive into daylight, I honestly couldn't tell you. To me, it doesn't matter. But I'm still a writer.

Today is a day people are identified. Married, divorced, single, dating, committed, widowed, or some combination of these. Their identities are put into boxes and wrapped with bows, or shoved into vases, or pulled from a section of the greeting card aisle. They are crammed into heart-shaped containers of chocolate or printed on thousands of grocery store valentines. And people are okay with this because it only happens one day a year. But if you asked any of the thousands of people that smiled when they opened their mass-personalized gift next week what they were, the answer wouldn't be so simple. Some people might even get offended.

Today I'm a writer. I'm also single. Tomorrow I will still be a writer. And probably single. I don't hate Valentine's Day. I think that if you have someone you love, you should express that. I'm also not bitter that I don't have anyone to romantically express my love to. It's just another day for me. And I'm pretty sure that even if I did have someone, it would be just another day. Because when you love someone, you should express it every day.

But I'm just a writer. What do I know?


1 comment:

  1. Nicely drawn, Elizabeth. You are indeed a writer. :)