You make my stomach do somersaults, like a circus performance every time you're near. It's like a fluttery frenzy of butterflies, swirling around, leaving me breathless and giddy. Your presence is the rollercoaster ride I never want to end, filling me with anticipation and excitement with every beat of my heart.

Giving flowers wasn't just a gesture; it was a symphony of emotions orchestrated between us. Each bloom carried a message of love, a silent declaration of affection that spoke volumes. From the wildflowers you'd pick on our countryside strolls to the bouquet you surprised me with on our anniversary, each petal held a precious memory, a testament to the beauty of our shared moments. In those delicate blooms, I found not just flowers but a garden of love blooming between us.

Sunsets whisper your name, painting the sky with hues of our love. Each fiery horizon evokes memories of our secret hand-holding, stolen kisses beneath the fading light. The way you'd tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, your gentle touch igniting sparks in my soul. Even now, as the sun dips below the horizon, your presence lingers in the warm glow, a silent promise of forever.

In the chaos of thoughts, your name is the only coherent sentence. Every glance feels like a stolen lyric from an unsung song. It's a dance of butterflies and untold emotions, a kaleidoscope of feelings I can't quite articulate. Having a crush on you is like living in the vibrant hues of a never-ending daydream.

With every bite of Maggi, the taste of nostalgia intertwines with the threads of your memory. The promise of sharing those steaming noodles on the terrace beneath the stars still echoes in my mind, a bittersweet melody of a vow left unfulfilled. Despite the passage of time since our parting, the yearning for that shared moment stubbornly persists. Maggi transforms into a dish of memories, each strand of noodles weaving the echoes of our unfulfilled stargazing dream. In the realm of simple pleasures, the ghost of that promise haunts the warmth of every Maggi bowl, a silent reminder of a connection that time hasn't fully untangled.

The words linger on my lips, the unspoken truth echoing in the chambers of my heart—I wish I could proclaim that I've moved on, but the reality is, I haven't. Despite the passing of time, the ache remains, a constant reminder of what once was and what could have been. Each day is a battle against the memories that refuse to fade, against the longing that refuses to dissipate. Moving on feels like an unattainable destination, a distant shore beyond the stormy seas of my emotions. So, I carry on, with a heart still tethered to the past, yearning for the day when letting go becomes my reality.

Dear celebrity crush,

You may not be aware of my existence, yet in countless shadows of life, it's the radiance of your smile that pulls me back from the edge. Beyond the glitz of the stage, in the quiet hours of solitude, I find solace in the echoes of your laughter. Watching your interviews becomes a lifeline when loneliness threatens to engulf me, each anecdote a beacon of light in the darkness. Even in the mundane routines, the thought of your presence offers a flicker of hope. You may not know my name, but your essence permeates my existence, a silent savior in moments when despair looms large.

In a world where expectations swirl like a storm, academic validation becomes my refuge. Each high grade, a shield against the doubting whispers. I navigate the corridors of intellect, seeking recognition not in fleeting glances but in the inked affirmations on my papers. The classroom is my arena, where competence triumphs over stereotypes. In equations and theories, I find my validation, a fortress of intellect that demands acknowledgment. It's not just about grades; it's a proclamation that intelligence knows no gender. In the academic realm, I carve my narrative, asserting that my intellect is the only validation I crave, and it echoes louder than any societal skepticism.

In a world filled with noise, finding solace in shared silence is a rare and precious thing. Whether it's sitting together, watching the sunset, or enjoying a quiet moment on the porch, the ability to be comfortable in each other's presence without the need for constant conversation speaks volumes. Shared silence isn't an absence of communication; it's a language of its own, where the unspoken understanding and companionship create a serene and profound connection.

In the quiet corners of my heart, I always sensed I deserved more, yet the gravitational pull of your presence was my cosmic constant. Love, with its peculiar alchemy, made me stubborn in wanting only you. You were the ink in my poems, the melody in my silences. The awareness of deserving more existed, a dormant truth, but your essence overshadowed reason. In the intricate dance of emotions, I clung to you, the familiar ache preferable to the unknown. Love, a paradoxical enigma, compelled me to yearn for the very thing I, perhaps, deserved better than.

It's your birthday today, but now you're in the stars, the same stars you loved so dearly. When I look at them at night, they don't burn into my eyes anymore, it just feels like a warm hug. I don't understand astronomy one bit, the only reason I look up is to look at you.

There's a quiet intimacy in sharing the same room, even if our dreams unfold in separate beds. It's the hushed conversations that linger in the air, the synchronized rhythm of breaths creating an unspoken connection. The soft glow of night lights becomes a canvas for the vulnerability we share in the stillness. In the comfort of our separate sanctuaries, we find a shared haven, where the mere proximity tells a story of closeness that transcends the physical space between us. It's a unique intimacy, the kind that whispers, "You're not alone; I'm here with you, even in the quiet of the night."

Isn't it funny that I still look for your reaction every time I send something in the WhatsApp group? Isn't it funny that I still turn into jello every time you walk into the room? Isn't it funny how the most confident girl can't even meet eyes with you? Isn't it funny how you have that effect on me even after we broke up so long ago, and you're dating my friend?

Giving flowers is more than a gesture; it's a language of emotions expressed in petals. Each bloom carries a sentiment—roses for love, daisies for simplicity, and lilies for purity. It's the thought behind choosing the right bouquet, the careful selection reflecting shared moments and unspoken words. The act of giving flowers transcends occasions; it's a way to say, "I appreciate you," "I'm sorry," or simply, "I'm thinking of you." In the delicate petals exchanged, sentiments bloom, creating a canvas of emotions that goes beyond spoken language.

When they ask why I read, it's not just about words on paper; it's about immersing myself in worlds where love unfolds in ways I've yet to experience. In those pages, I find the kind of love that whispers in quiet moments, laughs in shared joy, and holds steadfast in adversity. It's a refuge, a glimpse into a realm where the fears of love lost are replaced by the warmth of connections forged. So, when they question my love for books, what they don't see is that I read to taste the love I'm afraid I might never find.

In every lingering smile, in the way he listens to others with genuine interest, and in the kindness he effortlessly extends, there's an extraordinary charm. It's in the crinkles by his eyes when he laughs, the subtle warmth of his hugs, and the quiet strength he carries. From the way he remembers small details to his unwavering support, he paints the canvas of our lives with countless shades of uniqueness.

He might think he's not enough, but it's these little things that make him the most special man to exist in my world.

Kisses, in their casual intimacy, become a language only we understand. It's the stolen peck in the kitchen while cooking together, the playful smooch that breaks into laughter, and the gentle brush of lips as we pass each other in the hallway. Casual kisses are the punctuation marks of our everyday love story, whispered reminders that affection doesn't always need grand gestures. They're the sweet pauses in our conversations, the reassurance in a simple touch, and the warmth in those moments when words fall short. In the symphony of our connection, casual kisses compose the notes that make our love song uniquely ours.