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Dearest parentheses, Oh how I love you. How you so generously and wholeheartedly embrace my sarcasm, musings, and asides. This is not a lukewarm affection that I harbor for you, and this is not a mediocre affair. Indeed my love for you runs true and deep. You. Complete. Me. No, really - without you in my life I couldn't do things like comment on my own comments. Why is there no verbal version of you that would allow me to interject my asides into discussions without diverting the entire waterfall of conversation down a new route? (Or earning funny looks...lots of funny looks I get when you are not around, parentheses). Why are you the only one that understands me, parenthesis!? You accept my suppositions and accusations without criticism or mockery, and for that I am eternally grateful. I do believe it is safe to say that when you harbor my parenthetical proclamations, you deliver the truth of the matter (whether it be touching, or ugly snark). We live in a messed up world, parenthesis, and all I can say is that I will never let the imbroglio come between us, even if other sentences do. So parenthesis, on this sacred (commercial) holiday (sham) created by the love gods (Hallmark), I celebrate our love. Cheers to whatever thoughts of mine you may hold in the coming months, and hey - happy valentine's day baby!