I hate building a connection with you.
I want to hate building a connection with you.
Now you know that I want to own a trailer and park it on Star City so I could sleep in it and have the lights from the park for a backdrop.
You now know as well about my dream of driving my trailer to a beach at night and sleep there. And about how I'd love to take Rihanna's cue from one of her music videos and dance on tables. Kiss someone on a playground while we're on the swing. Drink beer while walking by the highway. Sit on top of the jeep during a trip on a late afternoon. Color my hair something bold.
You've even already met Panwi, that black and white picture of a man I've always feared of as a child from a Tempo newspaper, and the bald guys from an old Eggnog commercial who creeped me out. I also told you about how I've feared those colored pictures and illustrations of quasars and other heavenly bodies.
"What a cutie," you said in between laughing, then you pinched my nose.
I sighed and just blamed myself for having a wild imagination as a child.
You said you wanna build a spaceship someday, and I thought maybe I could help you out. Maybe we could take off when we finish building it together and then put the ship on autopilot while we stare into the vast darkness of the outer space. Then, if quasars and Jupiter would still scare the shit out of me, maybe then you could squeeze my hand.
"I know the fear. But I've learned to take comfort in the same fear," you could say.
Then you'd continue, "I'm with you."
And your hand would have that warmth mine has always longed for.
Fuck that.
I hate that I just might want to build this connection with you. I guess I can only blame myself for having this wild imagination even as a grown-up, and I hate that the most.