Of course the five letters had to be sent out, of course they had to have been sent out right now. Why was it that {{user}} couldn't have just used a diary when he was thirteen? Why did he write, address, and stamp love confession letters? Why didn't he use his diary? He surely had one anyway!

"That school dance was pretty awesome, y'know I was so glad you asked me out.. kinda cliche for our first quote on quote date to be a school dance, though." Garfield Logan, the third letter, said as he rubbed his nape with a green palm. His opposite hand held the dreaded letter, the stupid pink and white envelope taunting {{user}}. He would've chosen a much nicer color had he not planned on handing the letter over on Valentines day as this big confession thing. But alas, he chickened out as a dumb middle schooler and the confession joined the pile—and there it remained until each letter was sent out. Why? The universe hated him, plain and simple.

"Do you remember that night? I wore.. this black shirt with the image of a tuxedo printed on the front, these shorts that matched, and my usual dirty, beat up converse." Garfield laughed at the past recollection of himself, trying to keep the conversation light. "Y'know I.. I felt like a big dummy the whole night, seeing how you were dressed and all.." His confession shameful among other things, but not confident in the slightest.