February, when I get excited about department stores, not love

I used to be quite the die-hard love addict.
I was the type who let whether or not a message was read dictate my whole day, overanalyzing the reasons why I couldn't see someone, and exhausting myself all on my own.
But for some reason, I've never felt even a millimeter of excitement for "romantic events" like Valentine's Day.

I've always disliked that atmosphere of "let's express our feelings on this day,"
which feels like a mass sale of emotions.
Even though I was drowning in love, I was always sober when it came to events.

Still, I go to department stores in February.
Not for love. Entirely for people-watching.

People making the line between true love and obligation difficult for themselves.
People who say "it's for myself" while choosing high-end chocolates with the intention of showing them off to someone.
People quietly starting a status battle based on the brand of the paper bag.
People whose eyes light up more at the word "limited" than at the "feelings" involved.

The event space feels less like romance,
and more like an exhibition wrapped in the desire for approval and capitalism, which is honestly kind of interesting.

Even though I've been tossed around by love so much,
I've made it this far without ever having my heart moved by these events.
I walk around the glittering sales floor once,
take a look at the human energy and the excessively beautiful chocolates,
and in the end, I go home without buying anything.

It's not love. It's not participation.
A quiet February where I observe the frenzy of the event from a distance and head home.