Roses are red, violets are blue. I don't need a man and neither do you.

As much as I've tried to convince the rest of the world that Valentine's Day is cancelled this year, it will still be taking place tomorrow, according to plan.

Just the thought of this dreaded so-called "holiday" makes me cringe. Usually. I've never been fond of Valentine's Day. Whether it was receiving jewelry from a boy in my fourth grade class and having to break his little heart by returning it because I couldn't reciprocate those same feelings or doting on the boy back home whom I was madly in love with and pretty sure I was going to marry, it was just never a day I could bring myself to celebrate in earnest. This year, as the day grew near, I started to feel that same cynism that usually encroaches on my outlook around the month of February.

But then, as I started to feel that utter hatred and disdain for this painstakingly cliché day, I had to stop myself. And then I realized...this is the first year in three years that I have not been in a relationship on Valentine's Day. For the first time in three years, I don't have to worry about anyone but myself. And as much as people might expect me to be absolutely crushed by that realization, I actually welcome it with a sigh of relief. 

I don't have to spend this Valentine's Day worrying about making someone else feel special and loved. I don't have to stay up all night baking cookies, or finishing presents, or writing letters. I don't have to put on a fake smile and pretend like all of their touchy-feely, overly cheesy "romantic" gestures don't make me so unbearably uncomfortable. I don't have to worry. I don't have to do anything at all if I don't want to. 

But this Valentine's Day, I will be celebrating. I will be celebrating being young, and alive, and strong, and free. I will be celebrating my singleness, because it's something I haven't been able to do in a very long time. It's something that should be celebrated, because I might not be single forever. So I'm going to fully embrace and appreciate the time I get to spend on my own and the freedom that comes with it. 

I know that a lot of people, like myself, aren't the biggest fans of this holiday, and tend to refer to it as "Single Awareness Day." But, let me share a little secret with you: It's not "Single Awareness Day." It's our very own personal Independence Day, and we have every right to treat it as such. I'm speaking to both the ladies and the gentlemen out there. This goes for all of you.

Most people might feel depressed about being single on Valentine's Day, seeing all of the happy couples prancing around, flaunting their love for each other. I was one of those people at one point, too. But while others are feeling sad and mopey about being alone on Valentine's Day, I find myself feeling empowered by it. I am young and I have all the time in the world to be tied down. But right now, all I want is to be surrounded by the people who mean the most to me and tell them I love them, finish college, work on achieving my goals, start my career, have new experiences, and enjoy my life along the way.

I am happy. I am loved. I am unlimited. I am free. And that, my friends, is cause for celebration.

Happy Independence Day! 

Confessions from the terminally insecure.

I'm just going to say this, because I don't know how else to go about it. And, honestly, I don't know if there is a good way to go about this. So I'll begin with a warning: This is going to be painfully candid and horribly honest and perhaps the most openly I will ever expose myself. So brace yourself.

We all have days when we don't feel beautiful. We all have days when we don't feel like we fit in. We all have days when we feel like we're not good enough; for the people we love, for strangers on the street, for ourselves. We all have days when we really just don't like ourselves very much. Lately, for me, I haven't liked myself very much at all. I can't really pinpoint the exact day or moment in time when I arrived at this state of self-loathing, but it took over with a vengeance, and it doesn't seem to be backing down.

I've been in the process of regaining my sense of self after months of losing myself to the bewilderment and heartbreak of a horrible breakup. But that's just background information. We're not talking about that now. However, ever since then, I have had such a hard time being able to really believe in and see myself in a positive light again. Maybe it's a product of the cause-and-effect phenomenon, maybe it's purely coincidence. But maybe - just maybe - it was just my time to be humbled and brought back down to earth.

Insecurities can be brutal. They can tear you apart and make you forget who you really are and what you want for yourself. They can make you feel weak, and small, and utterly insignificant. They can make you all but lose your mind. I've never really been either hyper-confident or paralyzingly insecure. I have always fallen somewhere in the middle of that spectrum. When I was younger, I typically always had a fairly solid sense of my place in the world. It was the result of the way I was brought up. I was raised by a mother who never let me forget that I meant something invaluable and irreplaceable to someone: her. But even so, there were times when I felt bigger and other times when I felt smaller in the world. I had my ups and downs just like everyone else. I went through phases where I was a little too overconfident about myself and my abilities and phases where I couldn't understand how my existence even mattered in either the major or minor scheme of things.

I dealt with depression earlier on in life than most. My childhood, although wonderful and far from unfortunate, had its fair share of hardships. I had everything I could have ever asked for, but it was still life as we know it and, therefore, rough patches were unavoidable. About the time I was 9 years old, a string of medical complications began to unfold one after another. Conveniently, this was also around the time that I entered into my inevitable "awkward phase." So, with the stresses of monthly, and later bi-monthly doctors visits and blood tests and brain scans came the internal fears and doubts and eventually depression that took over the space in my brain that wasn't already keeping itself occupied by malfunctioning at random intervals. My already fleeting self-esteem practically flew out the window as though it had never really existed in the first place. I think this is the point in my brief history where my own view of myself started to become skewed and unstable, because I've never really been the same since.

Fast forward about 12 years. As far as I can tell, I'm about as healthy as humanly possible, I'm (in one way or another) past my "awkward phase," I overcame my battle with depression, and I certainly have a lot to be proud of and thankful for. I'm a very lucky girl. I know that full well. And yet, something just feels very wrong and unsettling at the core of my being. My self-confidence has sunk to an all-time low. It's almost to the point where I don't even want to bother looking in the mirror because I already know I won't like what I see. I don't make an effort to meet new people because I already know they won't like me and it's better to save us both the disappointment. I second guess myself at every turn and I over think every movement, every word, every minor detail because I know, somewhere along the lines, I'm going to do something to screw it all up. I make jokes to cover up all of my insecurities, because I know I'm the "funny" girl, not the "smart" girl, or the "pretty" girl, or the "cool" girl. I take what I can get and I don't ask for more. I settle for far less than I've been taught that I deserve. And I honestly can't remember the last time I did something purely because it was what I wanted.

I can point fingers and blame it on getting my heart broken by the one person I ever really loved, being repeatedly and rhythmically rejected, having people walk away from me like it was completely effortless, allowing myself to be walked all over and taken advantage of, or just being a girl in her twenties trying to get through her life. But those are excuses and excuses are good for very little. But what it ultimately boils down to is the bare bones facts: I just really don't like myself right now and I don't know how to fix that. Frankly, that's depressing. I know that. And obsessively dwelling on it is draining and the breed of annoying that makes you want to pull your hair out. It's a vicious cycle, one that I would like very much to break free from. I just feel like I can't win. I don't feel good enough, or pretty enough, or worthy enough. It's honestly the worst, most helpless feeling in the world. But I know I can't stop trying to get better. I can't give up hope that there will be a break in the clouds. I can't give in to my own insecurities and allow them to win this time. I need to find it in myself to remember what I deserve and what I know is right, and real, and true. I need to rediscover my own worth, on my own terms, for myself and absolutely no one else.

There are times when life is going to hit you where it hurts and then kick you while you're down. This is one of those times. And I have to believe that it's just a phase. It will pass. It has to.

This isn't a cry for help or my way of fishing for compliments. This is just me telling it like it is.