Why I Hate Valentine's Day
By Shanice, age 15, South Africa
It was February 13, 2009, a Friday. Everyone at school was busy exchanging teddy bears, chocolates and other sappy gifts. I had a huge crush on this guy for over two years. Recently I had noticed that he was constantly looking at me, even when he was talking to other people.
Naturally I thought that he liked me and was going to tell me that day. I was super-excited. I ran out of class to the school parking lot.
I waited and waited. Nothing happened.
Finally, when he and I were the only ones in the parking lot (aside from a few others), he came over to me.
He called me. I pretended like I didn't hear. I still remember how fast my heart was beating. It sounds clichéd, but I totally thought that he could hear it. I knew that my heartbeat was certainly all I could hear.
He called me once again. I turned around.
"Can I speak to her alone?" he asked my friend.
She nodded and stepped aside. She knew that I liked him. At that point, it felt like my heart was about to jump out of my chest.
"Yeah?"
"Do me a favour?"
I smiled at him. "Sure."
He nodded at my friend who had walked some distance away. "Get it."
"Get what?" I asked, confused.
"Her number," he replied.
With those two words, my entire world came crashing down. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.
"I'll try," I choked out.
I remember my eyesight blurring. I turned and walked away as fast as I could. I had never felt so upset.
I spent that Valentine's Day - that entire weekend, actually - crying.
Up to this day, he and I have never spoken again. Looking back, I wonder if he saw me crying, if he even cared.
Maybe I will never get the answers I need. But what I do know is that Valentine's Day will never be the same for me again.
