I really wish feelings came with expiration dates... like "use by this date" because at this point it just feels like my heart is an ice box full of moldy, off-taste, off-color feelings that are just fucking expired. I don't clean the fridge out because I keep thinking to myself maybe they might still be edible. You ever pull something out of your fridge and smell it to see if it's still good but can't really tell so you think to yourself "ehh, what the hell" and have to taste it to tell if it is expired or isn't because there's really no other way of telling?? well, i'm pretty sure that fucking metaphor summarizes my love life right now.