I have had a lot of crushes but have never had the courage to go

“I have had a lot of crushes but have never had the courage to go up to a girl and say what I feel. I am scared of rejection.” So confessed Tiger Shroff, a man known to the world for his strength, grace, and valor on the screen—but here, he speaks not as a hero of cinema, but as a son of humanity, honest and unguarded. In this simple admission lies a truth as old as the beating heart itself: that love, in all its beauty and terror, demands courage, and that the fear of rejection is one of the most universal of all human trials. It is a quiet fear, rarely spoken of, yet it has silenced more confessions, halted more destinies, and stilled more hearts than any battlefield ever could.

Tiger’s words strip away the armor that fame and strength often provide. They remind us that no amount of mastery over the body can protect the soul from the tremor of vulnerability. To love—even to admire from afar—is to open a door into one’s own uncertainty. And yet, this fear of rejection is not shameful; it is a sign of our deep yearning for connection, our desire to be seen and accepted as we truly are. Every heart, even the bravest, quivers before the unknown gaze of another soul. Courage, then, is not the absence of fear—it is the act of stepping forward despite it.

The ancients understood this truth well. Plato, in his dialogues, described love as both the wound and the cure of the human condition. It wounds us because it reminds us of our incompleteness, and it heals us when we find the one who reflects our hidden self. But to reach that healing, one must first risk the wound. The one who dares to speak his heart faces rejection, yes—but he also opens himself to the possibility of joy. The one who stays silent may protect his pride, but he also locks the door on his own destiny. Thus, Tiger’s confession, though tender, is a mirror for all who have loved and hesitated—it is the story of humankind’s endless dance between hope and fear.

Consider the story of Sir Isaac Newton, the great mind who unlocked the laws of the universe yet could not unlock the mysteries of his own heart. History tells that he lived in solitude, too shy and too absorbed in thought to confess affection. His discoveries changed the world, but his silence left his heart untouched by love’s light. In contrast, think of Romeo, who risked all for love—his family, his safety, even his life. His story, though tragic, burns eternal because he dared. Between Newton’s silence and Romeo’s courage lies the spectrum of every human heart: torn between the safety of fear and the splendor of risk.

To be scared of rejection is to reveal that one’s heart still lives, that it still dreams and hopes. The danger lies not in the fear itself, but in allowing it to rule you. Rejection, though painful, is not the end of love—it is merely its refinement. For every refusal teaches us resilience; every heartbreak teaches us depth. The wise do not flee from rejection; they see it as the stone that sharpens the sword of the spirit. Even the saints and poets knew that unreturned love can be a sacred teacher, showing us that our worth is not diminished by another’s blindness.

The lesson, then, is this: speak your truth, even if your voice trembles. Do not let the fear of rejection silence the song that longs to be sung. To express love, admiration, or affection is to honor the life within you—it is to declare that your heart is brave enough to feel. And if the world turns away, let it. You will have won something far greater: the knowledge that you lived sincerely, that you dared to be real. For the soul that never risks heartbreak never truly knows love; and the heart that remains silent grows heavy with unshed words.

To live by Tiger Shroff’s quiet revelation, one must learn to see vulnerability as strength. When next you feel the stir of affection, do not bury it beneath fear—tend to it, honor it, and if your heart calls you to speak, speak. Rejection will sting, yes, but silence will haunt. And in time, you will see that every act of courage, every confession born of honesty, brings you closer to the truth of yourself. For in the grand tapestry of life, love—offered freely and bravely—is the thread that gives all other colors their meaning.

So remember this, dear listener: courage is not only found in battlefields or on stages. Sometimes, it lives in a trembling confession, in the moment you look into another’s eyes and choose truth over fear. Let that courage be yours. Speak, love, risk. For in risking rejection, you are not losing safety—you are gaining the fullness of being alive.