Vancouver is where I fell in love. With people, with places, with ideas, with sights and sounds and smells. I fell in love with the way the waves break on the beach when there’s a storm. With the way the grass smells after it rains. With the majesty of sunlight, and the unexpected brilliance of cloudy days. I fell in love with the water in the air, and how it makes my hair frizz up like a fiery red mane. I fell in love with the smell of the sea breeze and the silence that surrounds you on a calm day at the beach. I fell in love with the fog, how it clings to your every pore until you feel like you’re swimming in the sky. I fell in love with the feel of sand between my toes, and the feel of the wind lightly caressing my cheek. I fell in love with the mountains, the forests, the ocean. With the way my heart thumped and my blood pumped as I ran through the streets. I fell in love with the smell of the city, the feeling of always having somewhere to go, always moving. I fell in love with the rush of people, the crush of cars, the ever-present smell of marijuana. I fell in love with the cleansing rain, which somehow always seemed to have the ability to wash away parts of myself I didn’t want. I fell in love in Vancouver, and I fell in love with Vancouver. Most importantly, I fell in love with myself.
And here we are. The day of love itself. Valentine’s Day. The single most hated and loved holiday of the year. For couples, it’s a day to celebrate being together and being in love. For single people, it’s a day to sit at home and eat chocolate and watch TV. The media capitalizes on this, airing special romance movies all night and showing commercials for chocolate at every opportunity. Sappy movies are released all over the world (Fifty Shades of Grey anyone?) and restaurants start sending out ads for a “special Valentine’s Day couples dinner: 40% off if you dine with someone and you’ll also receive a special dessert to share”. Our modern society places so much on the concept of togetherness; there are parties all over campus tonight stating “Singles Awareness Party – come alone, leave together”. Many restaurants won’t actually take a reservation for you unless you’re in a group of two or more. Valentine’s Day is not a day for people to be alone, but frankly, I love being alone.
I’m at a stage in my life where I don’t want to be tied down. Everything in my life is constantly changing. I still don’t know who I am, and who I want to be. I spend hours and hours practicing and writing music each day, and when I come home, I just want to watch “Hannibal” and drink a smoothie. By myself. I’m not, and never have been, a huge fan of PDA. I don’t like walking around campus with people. I prefer to listen to music in my headphones and block out the world. I like being by myself most of the time, and yet society has placed this huge stigma on people who are like that. If you don’t have someone to share your life with, you somehow seem unworthy of attention. If attention is placed on you, then it’s usually negative, and it implies that you’re a sad, pathetic, lonely person who’s looking for love and can’t find it. I’m not a huge fan of this kind of attention. I’m happy the way that I am. I’m single, but I am not alone. I have family and friends who mean the world to me. And isn’t that kind of love enough?
(also watch Crazy Stupid Love because it’s the best Valentine’s Day movie ever and Emma Stone is great)