On this, the most Hallmarkian of holidays, I'd like to give you a chance. I'd like to believe you might exist, hiding behind gaudy displays of pink saran wrapped chocolate hearts, surviving the olfactory onslaught of over preserved roses. In the pantheon of holiday figures, you are often the most despised, the source of the most cynicism and bitterness. We can give so much love to an old man in a red suit, dress up in costumes to chase away demons on Halloween, but we have a hard time believing in you, valentine. So give us something to believe in. Prove yourself worthy of February the 14th. Make the cliches come true. Whatever the elusive all is, let love conquer it. Whether they're broken, sick, warmed, full; show us some real hearts, ones not filled with candy. Break out of this civilized, artificial, corporate shell we've forced you into. Because if you're real, then I have a good feeling that nothing about you is civilized or corporate or artificial. Wreak some havoc on this world, the good kind, the kind of havoc that makes people change, start dancing in the streets, burst into inappropriate song. Act in a way that will make Hallmark deem you too radical for a sponsorship. Be vulgar or insane. Just don't be this valentine I see at CVS. Pink isn't even your color. What do stuffed bears have to do with love? Valentine, frankly you've demeaned yourself over the years. But it's not too late to turn it around. Because like Ms. Woolf said "what greater delight and wonder can there be than to deviate into those footpaths that lead beneath brambles and thick tree trunks into the heart of the forest where live those wild beasts, our fellow men."