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It’s officially Valentine’s Day. And this would call for a Valentin’s Day post, right? Right! Well, not really…

I certainly do not condone this holiday; we have a traditional Romanian holiday which so many of us knew nothing about until suddenly we started celebrating the imported one. We have Dragobete, so if we’re going to consider some sort of celebrations and traditions, let’s consider those related to Dragobete.

But since eeeeeverybody’s going to be talking about the consumeristic holiday that is Valentine’s Day (from a positive or negative point of view, usually depending on the person’s relationship status – attached or single), I am going to take this opportunity to talk about love myself.

Today, I listened to one of Shakira’s songs, Antología. There were a couple of lyrics that struck me, spoke to me: “y fué por ti que escribí/ más de 100 canciones”. That’s me! Obviously, I don’t write songs, but I do write – poems, blog posts, short stories…all of them for…not for me, many times not even about me.

It suddenly dawned on me that even this blog, although I am the one writing it, is not mine. I write poems and blog posts for you. You = nobody special, someone in particular, however you wish to believe or imagine. I write for him, for her, for friends, for lovers.

I’ve written ouf of desperation, out of pain, out of suffering. I’ve shed tears on pieces of paper and had to rewrite the whole thing because simply putting the words down on paper would cause me to cry my eyes out.

I’ve written for someone I had just met a couple of days before and I’ve never seen since the day I wrote the poem. I’ve written for a boy I had a crush on, although he never knew because I could not gather the courage to tell him anything, or even imply anything.

I’ve written for someone I was simply drawn to.

I’ve written about an infatuation that almost turned into real love – let’s just say I’ve written about “puppy love”, my first attempt at love.

And, naturally, I’ve written about the read deal – the one that literally makes you go stupid and makes you see the world much clearer at the same time (crazy, I know!). I’ve written about the impossible elation that only such a love can give you and about the sheer physical pain it causes when it ends. I’ve written about how it changes you, how it makes you realize how close you can get to another person, how much trust you can place in the other. Such a love transforms you on a fundamental level – in the process of learning about the other person, you start to discover things about yourself you had never imagined even existed. Such a love makes you want to change, to better yourself.

And it’s inexplicable why this feeling is so strong. You just know it is there and you succumb to it.

“Para amarte necesito una razón
Y es difícil creer que no exista
Una más que este amor”

So I think I’ll keep writing my heart out, every time I have a reason to do it – be it a new infatuation, a new love, a new crush, be it heartache, be it pain, be it tears. I’ll write for you. This is how I give myself to you, in words. It’s not revenge, it’s not praise. It’s just me.