Dearest First Crush,

There was once a time in my life when I thought love was terribly and utterly overrated. I would roll my eyes in exasperation upon hearing the very word. I would even sigh at couples swinging their intertwined hands in public, shaking my head at their naïve ingenuousness. Love didn’t need to be woven into the storyline of every movie, and it certainly didn’t need to be the focus of seemingly every song on the radio. But maybe I couldn’t fathom society’s absurd emphasis on this strange emotion because I had never truly experienced it for myself.

But then you came along.

It was that familiarly grim time of the school year—halfway through second semester—when the roaring fire known as life starts to taper out into a sluggish, monochrome wisp of smoke. Well as it turns out, you were the much-needed kindle for my disappearing flame—a spark among the mundane routine of life.

You had just moved into my area from another country, so you had that distinct element of mystery. I remember your broad shoulders and toned calves, your shiny black hair with a touch of messiness. I even remember your prominent Adam’s apple that bounced on the walls of your throat each time you asserted something humorous. And above all, your smile was one that convinced others that happiness could indeed pour out from one person to another, flow from your heart into mine.

Because you were my first crush, I recall being extremely confused when my feelings for you initially began to sprout. I would ask myself why my heart started beating faster only when I was near you, or why I felt so warm and joyful all the time. As I came to the realization that I was floating through the first few stages of “puppy love,” I began to embrace it head on. I would deliberately walk in the specific school hallways in which I knew our paths would cross, and with a butterfly-filled stomach I would start conversations with you during lunch to get to know you a bit better each day.

Before I met you, I had admired a few celebrities whom I thought were aesthetically appealing. Yet I quickly got bored of their near-perfect looks. Because here’s the thing: as far as appearances go, (if I’m being completely honest,) you weren’t the most attractive. But that’s when I came to the realization that I really, really liked you simply for who you were. I liked you for your je ne sais quoi, and for the confident yet approachable way in which you carried yourself.

And for that I want to thank you—for being the first to show me that love (as I know it) isn’t about cheesy pink hearts or the eloquently flirtatious dialogues exchanged between Romeo and Juliet. It can be found on the playground of our elementary school, in my wide-eyed gaze up at your focused face as you attempted to teach me how to kick a soccer ball. And thank you for being the first person I could relate the romantic lyrics of a Taylor Swift love song to.