Chapter 8 – Paloma
Dear Dallas - (if that's even your name?),
It's been a month since you've replied, and I've been sending you letters every week. It's kind of starting to feel a little stalkerish (completely on my side.)
Were you offended that I said we couldn't be pen pals because you didn't like astrology?
Or was it because I called you rude when you didn't ask what my favorite holiday was? (I stand by the fact that was rude, BTW).
Whatever the reason, I hope you're ok. In a weird way, I feel like we've become friends despite the hundreds of miles separating us and, you know, the fact that sometimes I still lie awake in bed and wonder if you're actually my mom and not some boy named Dallas.
(I know, I know, you're not.)
Regardless of the fact that you AREN'T MARGARITA, I've been enjoying writing you letters. I told my best friend Kacey that I was writing to a boy I've never met before who lives in Los Angeles.
I mostly told her that to win cool points since she thinks Hollywood is the most glamourous place to possibly live. I’m not convinced.
Do you ever get to go to cool events with your parents? Like movie premieres and stuff?
All of those lights and cameras flashing in the stars' faces stress me out. I can't imagine how it would feel to have so many eyes dissecting every single thing I do, critiquing my every move.
It's bad enough living in a small town where the rumor mill runs rampant if you're seen even talking to a boy at school.
Anyways, hope you're doing well? This is the fourth letter I've written to you without a reply and I'm starting to wonder if you've ghosted me.
Write back.
XoXo - Dove