It’s funny the way love is mass-marketed. Walk down a supermarket isle and witness your feelings staring at you from the wall. The way they’re almost laughing at you and the way you display your love with kisses and feelings, rather than twenty dollar boxes colored in red for the day and then yellow in a month and then striped, simply recycling the notion. A man designs the heart shaped box trying his best to capture an almost unattainable emotion using tangible objects and materials, creating only an anomaly, and then five million more just like it. And you buy one of those five million, but before you do, you think to yourself, “how much do I love her?”. Your answer is not meant to come in terms of ounces or variants of dark, white, or milk. Its not meant to come in the form of a strangers words on cardboard with fist fulls of glitter. Painted in pink and red, like her nails and every other girls’ nails that week, which you had not noticed. It’s not meant to come in any dollar amount, or she is only as good as the bouquet the clerk picked out for you because you don’t seem to know that roses grow out of the ground, when you left, he counted your cash and laughed aloud. So before you try to hand me a stuffed bear with a heart and no stitched in smile, or attempt to bottle your feelings in red wine that I’ll later drink only in an attempt to drown my feelings of sadness, try to realize that a simple kiss and look is all it took for me to fall in the first place. And this just looks desperate.