Dear Loving Classmates,

Okay, who is it? I’m serious, if this is a joke I will hunt you down and torture you with my bare hands. And maybe some rusty tools.

What am I referring to, you ask? Oh, just the “mysterious” cliché notes and crap everywhere I go. This has to be a joke — I mean, who in the world likes me that much? Making a mockery of me? That I understand. Irritation and exasperation are sentiments that are shot my way daily, and I’ve become totally accustomed to them by now. If this isn’t a joke, I apologize for making fun of your adolescent longings, but enough is enough. Valentine’s Day is slowly approaching, and it’s freaking me out.

Everyone hates on Valentine’s Day, and I am the Queen Hatemonger of this day. Not only is it completely superficial and torturous for single people everywhere, I just find it so embarrassing. Flowers and declarations of love? WE’RE IN HIGH SCHOOL. Nobody really cares about anybody that much — it’s impossible. Our self-absorbed, pimply heads can’t really feel that strongly for anyone other than ourselves.

It’s sad but true, and it’s about time somebody admitted it. And reading crap like Romeo and Juliet only reinforces these myths about teenage love. So does every episode of The Vampire Diaries, 90210, and every other television show that pretends that teenagers have any notions of love.

So as everyone gets all hormonal and pressured to swap ridiculous Hallmark cards and find someone to take to another lame dance, I’ll be sitting here, counting the hours until this charade is over and we can move on to St. Patrick’s Day.

Wearing green? Now that’s a holiday I can support.

Barf and kisses,