The word "crush" is beautifully apt. CRUSH. Because that's precisely what a crush does — it demolishes and reconstructs our entire emotional landscape.
This timeless sensation has been my lifelong companion. At 10, 15 and 19, amid hunger pangs and sleepy moments, crushes have been my constant — a universal language transcending borders and ages.
In homage to love's delicate dance, I collected testimonies from my cherished friends (protected by whimsical fruit-based pseudonyms):
Strawberry got smart, memorizing vocab to impress an intelligent crush. Pineapple faked baseball passion, posting Musical.ly videos outside the field. Apple tried setting up their crush with their best friend. Banana emailed a crush about joining his basketball team in middle school; she is still waiting for that response! Kiwi mapped running routes to pass a specific house. Blueberry spent $70 on a Pandora necklace for a girl, got Chex mix in return (and discovered his sexuality).
We're willing to walk extra miles, take random classes, and spend unnecessary dollars — all for the possibility of love. Imagine what we'd do for the real thing.
These stories reveal something profound: crushes are hope's most charming messenger. In a world of structured routines, they introduce delicious uncertainty.
There is comfort in knowing, but there is magic in hope.
And so I see crushes as a way that hope persists in our silly little lives. Amid memos, LeetCode, and recruiting, is that one face you kinda sorta hope to see.
So here's to crushes: those beautiful chaos agents who make our hearts race and our lives interesting. They teach us that life isn't about having all the answers but about the thrilling moment of "what if?"
I think it's a noble job to be someone's crush. Suddenly, mornings aren’t as painful, and my outfits require at least 30 more minutes of calibration. Crushes become something people spend their entire lives seeking—purpose.
I fondly remember all my silly conversations with my friends. The same giggles fill the air at 19 as they did at 11 when we whispered and swore secrecy over the name of some kid we saw in Math.
So it's silly — the idea or the concept of a person being able to change the rhythm of your day and listen to songs differently. Let's take a moment to say THANK YOU to all those crushes that we’ve had, maybe still have, that remind us that we are still human. And that there is a live heart within us that, more than anything, yearns to find someone to beat for.
As I sit here in Perkins, the "Duke is For Lovers" poster stares me dead in the eyes.
Maybe Duke is for Lovers, but maybe it's not. But then again, I'm ok with the maybe.
As Aaron Burr sings in “Hamilton,” “I’m willing to wait for it.”
Shruthi Narayanan is a Trinity sophomore. Her column, "Let's be listeners," typically runs on alternate Fridays.
Editor's note: Narayanan was formerly a contributing writer for the news department
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