I want to live in Mars

I want to be the first to migrate to Mars, and work as an ice cream vendor there. I want to be the first to plant a coconut tree, live in an igloo-shaped house, and persuade Martians to buy cosmetic products. I want to scale its grand canyons, search for the elusive ice caps, and talk to bacteria and amoebas about life and living on Earth.
I want to go to the moon and fill its craters with water and create artificial waves so that I could surf in near zero gravity conditions. I want to explore its deepest caves and darkest crevices, reach its core and illuminate its mysteries. I will live in the dark side for months, then venture into the light side and piss on it. I want to name every rock and boulder out of every biblical character. I want to talk to the infinite silence, and hear its shame-filled accounts of solitary existence.
I want to take a peek into the Sun’s core. I will bring a single candle and light it with solar flares. I want to gaze deeply into its light, all the while mocking it for not blinding me as it does on Earth. I want to ride on a corona, swim in a sunspot, and grill a kebab or two. I will ask it why it is called sol, and why did it have to influence the solar system. I want to put a single spark and put it in a bottle to light my way eternal.
I want to go to Saturn and steal its rings.
I want to go to Pluto and mock it for nearly being a planet.
I want to go to Jupiter and mine the diamond in its core.
I want to go to Uranus and… oh well, never mind.
I want to go everywhere and nowhere all at once in the universe. And in all these wanderings and oohs and aahs and universal whatnots, I do not want you there. I do not want you anywhere near me in the universe.
I just want you right here, right now, where reality is and where I am typing this confession of my insanity.

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