I think about you all the time, I said. From when I wake up in the morning until I go to bed at night. It’s like I can’t change the channel. My mind has one channel and it’s you. Sometimes there will be a commercial break where I’ll focus on something else for a while, but I always go back to you. You’re the only thing on.
That’s nice, he said.
It’s kind of exhausting, I said, because I worry a lot. I constantly worry about you dying. I know it’s pointless but I can’t help it, because you being alive is really important to me. It’s like the thought of you dying is scarier than the thought of me dying.
Because the thing about people is, we only really care about ourselves. We are all deeply self obsessed, solipsistic, egotistical–the center of our own universes. So when we meet someone who makes us stop thinking about ourselves, even for a second, that must be a big deal, right?
I guess so.
Sometimes I feel like if I don’t suck your dick I’ll stop breathing.
I like that.
I could be addicted to you, probably.
Isn’t it strange how we all create our own personal definitions of beauty–how what’s beautiful or important to one person has no bearing on what’s beautiful or important to the next? Like it’s weird to think that people in the street look at you and just think you’re some skinny, stretched-out kid with a fucked-up face and a nose that’s too big and a pelvis that sticks out way too far, but to me you’re basically, whatever, perfect or something.
And saying all this makes me feel kind of embarrassed, exposed, stupid… but there’s not really a way around it. Because if there was one magic word I could say that would express all of this stuff to you I would just say it, but that word doesn’t exist, so instead I have to blab on and on and not really make sense in order to try and at least semi-explain myself and how I feel. And I don’t know if I’m succeeding but I feel like this is the best I can do with what the English language has to offer me. And I’m probably chewing your ear off, but I’m not even close to being done.
It’s OK, he said. I like hearing you talk.
Photos @ Will McBride