Who or what do you really love?
You know, I don't know. I love my family. I love being a librarian. I love writing. I love collecting books. I love knitting. But I'm not in love with anyone. My crush of over 20 years died a couple of years ago. Not the guy, the crush. At this point, all Valentine's Day means to me is the anniversary of the minor, minor, minor surgery I had which resulted in a huge-ass keloid scar.