I am unaware if something has been crafted with so much care and passion as me, crafted by the boy. Childhood love has come to one and all. Every teenager has spent some time thinking about the person whom they have given their heart to. Some have rejoiced, since they have won over their love. Some have cried, in failures. But having a crush has not stopped. It shouldn't. It is a pit that everyone must fall into, or else one of the best chapters of life remains untouched.

As for me, I was handwritten by a boy named Dave, sixteen years of age to a girl called Lily. Lily, was a popular girl in high school, the kind of a girl everyone wants to fall for. She was choosy at picking whose letter to respond and whom to slap away to glory. But she never complained. She knew that restricting your heart was difficult. According to her, it was never wrong to like a person, regardless of the fact who the person was. So she liked the attention. The full-term gazes aimed at her. Many had tried to give her a proposal, but she hadn't reacted. She had responded to say that it was alright for them to like her, but it was not necessary that she will love them.

Dave had written me so simply, not by spending time to choose a ink colour or thinking what to write. It had come out so easily, his feelings had out poured themselves effortlessly. I am therefore not a result of hard work, I am a consequence of pure love. Which was why, when Lily found Dave's letter kept at her desk, and had read it, she had smiled. Next day, even Dave had found a letter at his desk signed off by Lily.