A lot of negativity about love in Snowspangled

Because it’s not a wonderful thing. No, seriously. All that hearts and flowers business is bull. Love is really about saying “hey, here’s the one special person who can rip my heart right out easiest!” And then they do. They always do.

Love is like an airplane: it’s useless without a pilot and a shit ton of expensive, delicate gadgetry designed to tell you exactly where you are and what you should do.

Love is like bread: you forget about it for two minutes and it’s gonna end up covered in green hairy spots. Does that make French toast the official breakfast of the brokenhearted?

Love is like a cactus: just because you could hug it doesn’t mean it ain’t gonna hurt you.

Love is like dog poo: you step into it just when you think things are going to be okay, and then it really wrecks everything (or at least your shoes.)

Love is like an elephant joke: there aren’t any new ones and everyone knows all the punchlines, so nobody laughs, which makes for a poor elephant joke.

Love is like a fart: the longer it goes, the better it feels, but the risk of crapping yourself is always there, so you just can’t enjoy it.

Love is like a giraffe: it looks ridiculous and doesn’t do anything particularly awesome.

Love is like a hot dog: you have no idea what’s gone into it and you feel at least vaguely nauseous when someone starts to explain. Then you swear you won’t have another, but then it’s Tuesday and the Costco food court has the cheapest lunch deal in town (and they serve hot dogs.)

Love is like an igloo: sure it keeps the cold out, but literally any other structure would do a better job.

Love is like juice: a whole hell of a lot of work on second-grade materials (you don’t juice the fruits nice enough to eat, after all) for a little sweetness, which will promptly wreck your teeth and attract bugs.

Love is like kippers: you only know what it is if you grew up somewhere it is. Seriously, what are kippers?

Love is like laudanum: feels great for a bit, but then it’ll kill you.

Love is like a mystery novel: once you figure out who did it, how, and where, it’s not fun anymore.

Love is like nuts: you’re allergic to the delicious ones, and the rest are all hard work for something to break your teeth on or be rotted inside the shell.

Love is like an opal: one good smack and your pretty rock is destroyed.

Love is like pneumonia: it comes on with a fever, then it steals your breath and leaves you feeling like a truck hit you.

Love is like a Buzzfeed quiz: completely irrelevant and hinged on some statistically common quirk you share with a giant portion of the population. Sure, it sorted me Hufflepuff…but that doesn’t mean I’m sweet. Goddamn quizzes. They’re just there to serve ads anyway.

Love is like the radio: the one song you want to hear is never on. Likewise, the one person you want is not for you.

Love is like salting food: a little isn’t enough, and a lot is gross AF.

Love is like therapy: it doesn’t work, doesn’t fix your problems (magically) and doesn’t happen except when it does. And you might have to try like a zillion different ones. And sometimes you can get a semi-decent result on your own.

Love is like u: too far away to do me any good.

Love is like a vacation, except there’s always some kind of natural disaster in the vacation place and you won’t have fun for more than two seconds without getting in trouble or pain.

Love is like Wi-Fi: never where you really need it, and if it is there, it’s tied up with someone else’s shit.

Love is like x-rays: sometimes you need a tiny dose, but once again, full exposure is bad.

Love is like yarn: tangled and if you get it to work, itchy and uncomfortable.

Love is like a zoo: if you do it “right,” it’s full of kids, noise, and animal crap.