So I have this fantasy where you love me like I love you. Is that creepy? It feels a little creepy. And I mean, it's ridiculous. Isn't that just the stupidest shit you've ever heard? And it could stop right there and still be the most fucking moronic thing ever to tiptoe across my train of thought. But it doesn't. It goes further, without my permission. It gets stupider without having any damn right to. It goes to this place where you want to kiss me. And where, when I tell you I want to spend the rest of my life with you, you smile instead of running away. We make these promises; these huge, expansive promises that are so completely insane that no one should ever make them. But people do. And in an attack of temporary insanity we call love, you and I make them. They must be impossible to keep, but we don't seem to give a damn. And you know what? It gets worse, Fancy, it gets a lot worse. See there's this baby. Fuck, I must be insane. I don't even know where she comes from or how, but in this world in my head, there's a baby. And you hold her, and you look more beautiful than anything ever has. I completely love her, and I don't even know her name. She'll never even exist, and I already love her. I don't know what you do to my head, Kurt.