I'm a romantic at heart, and burning skulls just don't scream romance. Well, unless they're screaming romantic poetry while they're burning, that might be cool. Anyways every Valentines Day I build something, paint something or write something for my girlfriend/spouse. I never buy the thing I'm giving. I might buy the parts, but the gift is always of my creation.
That sight is a strange sight, especially for someone, who is a realist in every sense of the word! Is this the burning of bad spirits? Is this the celebration of life and death? Where is my valentine? If love is a valentine, why do we only get one...just one single day in a year? This is just to-o complicated for a 'realist?'