The futility of Valentines Day.

The commercialism that pervades modern life in Britain is aptly demonstrated by Valentines Day.  The abject desolation that manifests itself into the nervous system is an obfuscating aphorism that belies the romantic intention of the day’s true intent. That print, social and televisual media thrust expectation upon us and demand that we conform to social norms that are of theirs and their financial masters choosing, seems lost on the general populous who care for nothing more than to lose themselves in avaricious folly that they somehow seem to justify through the spending of vast sums of money on items that will in all likelihood sit in a cupboard or a draw, never to see the light of day until a time somewhere down the line when they are castigated for their banality and uselessness and are banished to a charity shop or in greater probability a land fill. Do I sound cynical? You must excuse me, the bile lodged in my throat has left a bitter taste due to the amount of exulted couples that have crossed my line of vision today in their amorous delight. What is to be done? Self vilification by its very definition seems self defeating, self congratulatory and against the good will of all men. Today however such things do not concern me, as my self righteous piety is all encompassing and shall take some quenching. Do people need one day above all others when prices are escalated to prove their desire for a loved one? Can one not express this each and every day, or in the very least once a week? Yet here I sit imbued only with my own self belief and a stupefying amount of caffeine that leads me to judge those who in all honesty may just be too fucking stupid to understand what is actually going on today.