Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble . . .

Valentines day is the one day a year that I ever truly consider staying away from the public. Not the usual, "Eh, I don't feel like venturing forth, and dealing with the regular idiocy of the population."
Honest, straight-forward, I just want to stay in bed and not move. Last Valentines day only cemented that want further into my mind. And the main cause? Of course a boy. I had a feeling that something might happen-- something had to happen, right? Something couldn't just not happen on this momentus day. Because, I was possitive it would be the first time in sixteen years that the stupid Halmark-Card, Chalk-y heart-shaped-candies-giving, reminder-to-everyone-they're-alone day wouldn't completely suck.
It turns out I was wrong.
This boy, Bj, I had known since seventh grade. I was best friends with his older sister, and I was certain he liked him. He had even said so, a few times. So, the day before Valentines day, my mum and I went out, and bought chocolate. But not normal chocolate-- cooking chocolate. And then we went home, and I spent the next seven and a half hours making homemade chocolates, with raspberry, chocolate, marshmallow fondants, carmel fillings, decorating them, tying ribbons on the bags.
And then it was Valentines day.
I was so excited I couldn't even stand it. I was going to find him, and give him the chocolates that I had worked so hard to make; my arms were still sore from stiring everything so often to keep it light and fluffy while it settled.
I watched as girls recieved bouquets, cookies, kisses (both chocolate and real), cutesey-looking stuffed animals with hearts. It killed me to see all these girls with all of these items. Most of them were complaining about it.
And I didn't see Bj at all.
First period came and passed.
Second . . .
Third . . .
And then it was lunch.
I found him in the lunchroom, talking to his friends. I tried to talk to him, but . . . it didn't go over too well. So, I gave him the chocolates, and watched as he turned his back to me, and continued talking to his friends.
So I left.
And when I got home, I cried. For quite a long while.
I had been so certain that something was supposed to happen, that I didn't even stop to think about what I'd feel if nothing did.
But nothing did.
And the day ended, and the next began, and it was over.