Seasonal reflections on my quirks (read: insanity) as a child

One of the last years before I reached the age where Valentine’s Day becomes less about inclusivity and familial/platonic likeness and more about fucking, edible underwear, and heartbreaking despair (I think it was fifth grade!), I decided to make my own Valentines for our class exchange.  For most people, this means lumpy and lopsided construction paper, doily, and crayon creations.  With, like, hearts and arrows and stuff.  I made mine in Photoshop, and instead of hearts or anything tangentially related to Valentine’s Day, all of them had scans of marketing postcards for the Titanic.  And when I say Titanic, I am not referring to the schlocky (but amazing! and pretty!) movie, but the actual ship.