it shouldn't be this hard to be happy.

which doesn't sound quite what i mean; i am happy. that's the hard part.
i think.

i've always had a hard time with moderation. i tend towards the extremes, a predilection which makes me a vegetarian, influences strongly my decision to abstain from drugs, and for a long time represented my reason to abstain from love. because my intensity exists almost against my will, and seems to breed two distinct reactions: either a feverish response in kind, or abject terror. sometimes, the first turns to the second with little warning.
the result? a few high climbs followed by steep, steep falls, a few attempted flings which failed miserably when one or the other of us fell in love, and two exceptions.

the first is a story unto itself and doesn't warrant a repetition here.
the second happens to be the best thing that's ever happened to me.

so, what do you do when confronted with someone who breaks every conception that defines a relationship for you? who, in fact, refuses to allow the connection between you to be labeled "a relationship" at all? who seems to know exactly what you hope he will do, and who has a depth of tenderness and perception that you have no idea how to grasp?

abject terror.
and once you get over that, and once you start to get over the disbelief and into the fierce, possesive joy, you (if you're me) begin to doubt.
you don't doubt him, you've never doubted him. you doubt yourself.

because it's never worked before, nothing, ever. and this suddenly has become the first time you really want it to. and despite all feeble attempts to the contrary, you don't know how to do it. any of it. all you know how to do is throw yourself, and stand slowly back up once the broken bones heal. you don't know what to do when he catches you, you only know that you've never been held like this before.