Valentines.

Not sure whether to indulge in the hypocrisy engulfed with the falacy that lies amidst the umph

or

heal the scarred, torn part in my mind that thinks its all superficial and nugatory.

Criss crossing between living every day as its a love attack, fighting to catch Cupids arrows, and playing an ochestra with the butterflies in her stomach

or

succumbing to the cosmetic and universal brainwash of being extravagant, in the moment making her feel special, tickling her inner child.

I shrugged as i bought flowers and chocolates from work. I guess we'll never know.

I headed home!