Risky Letter
When I was just a kid with a head full of innocent dreams, I decided to pour my heart out in a letter to my crush. I couldn't contain the butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I carefully crafted each word, expressing how much I adored his hair, his sparkling eyes, and the way he always read the textbook before the class.
I slipped the letter into his locker at school, hoping he would read it and feel the same way I did. In my little world, I believed that love was simple and pure, and I promised to always cherish and adore him, no matter what.
Days passed, and I anxiously waited for a response, my mind dancing with fantasies of us holding hands and sharing secrets under the shade of a tree. Then, one afternoon, a letter arrived in my mailbox. I tore it open, only to find my own words staring back at me.
Confusion turned to horror as I realized that my crush had returned the letter, but it wasn't in his hands—it was in my mom's. She stood before me, her eyes blazing with anger, as she waved the letter in front of my face.
In her eyes, my innocent declaration of love was nothing but foolishness, and she saw fit to punish me for it. Tears streamed down my cheeks as she scolded me for my childish behavior, her disappointment crushing my fragile heart into a million pieces.
I lay in bed that night, nursing both physical and emotional wounds, I wonder if love was meant to be so painful. But deep down, in the depths of my innocent soul, I clung to the hope that someday, someone would cherish my love as much as I cherished theirs, without judgment or condemnation.
I slipped the letter into his locker at school, hoping he would read it and feel the same way I did. In my little world, I believed that love was simple and pure, and I promised to always cherish and adore him, no matter what.
Days passed, and I anxiously waited for a response, my mind dancing with fantasies of us holding hands and sharing secrets under the shade of a tree. Then, one afternoon, a letter arrived in my mailbox. I tore it open, only to find my own words staring back at me.
Confusion turned to horror as I realized that my crush had returned the letter, but it wasn't in his hands—it was in my mom's. She stood before me, her eyes blazing with anger, as she waved the letter in front of my face.
In her eyes, my innocent declaration of love was nothing but foolishness, and she saw fit to punish me for it. Tears streamed down my cheeks as she scolded me for my childish behavior, her disappointment crushing my fragile heart into a million pieces.
I lay in bed that night, nursing both physical and emotional wounds, I wonder if love was meant to be so painful. But deep down, in the depths of my innocent soul, I clung to the hope that someday, someone would cherish my love as much as I cherished theirs, without judgment or condemnation.