A gift is something you give to someone.
A projectile is something you launch at their face.
This distinction used to be understood by children, dogs, and most adults at county fairs. It now seems to require its own chapter.
Your phone is not a love letter. Your bracelet is not a comet. Your beer can is not a compliment with carbonation.
If the artist has to duck, flinch, stop singing, call security, or develop a sudden interest in protective eyewear, you have not made a memory.
You have created paperwork.