I could tell she was hung over, but at the time, it didn't matter. I went to her room and shoved my way on to her bed and just started talking.

I told her about the recent emotional upheaval I dealt with, and how it still hurt, but I'll be okay. I told her that I feel like an idiot sometimes. I told her that I just seem to be stumbling through life, teetering on the edge of bliss and heartbreak, barely able to catch my balance most of the time. I told her that once in awhile, I catch hold of someone who pulls me off my tightrope and I invariably fall head over heels. There doesn't seem to be anything else for me - I either love madly, or not at all. And I told her that when this happens, I'm all to happy to hand over my heart like a little treasure wrapped in pretty paper. And sometimes it ends suddenly, and sometimes they just drift away slowly, and then I'm left shattered and alone, to pick up the pieces that used to be me. I stick them together the best that I can, and I start the long climb out of heartbreak, back to my tightrope. I told her that I knew that was a confusing analogy, but it was the best I could do.

As I type this, I feel myself becoming a bit emotional, remembering past moments of bliss, and past bouts of heartbreak, but when I was talking to my mom, I wasn't emotional. I felt...peaceful. I guess because I wasn't putting situations with my analogy, I was only analyzing myself. I digress...

As I lay on the edge of my mom's bed that reeked of stale tobacco and rested my head on her clammy thigh, she stroked my head with her calloused, rough hand and listened as I told her that sometimes, I wish I was more logical. I sometimes wish that I didn't go through life, living this cycle. I wondered if maybe I didn't give myself over to love so quickly and easily, would I be on such a constant emotional roller coaster. And before she could offer an answer, I went on to acknowledge that no, I knew I would never change. After all, as much as it hurt, it never has killed me, and I think that now I'm strong enough emotionally to survive just about any heartbreak a guy could dish out.

She took my pause as a cue to pipe in, and she told me that I'm a lot like her, which sent an involuntary shudder down my spine. She said that I was a lot like her, except I'm stronger, and luckier. I may go through life a little too willing to fall in love, but I always picked myself up if it went badly, and sometimes it went well, after all, even though it's not the same, I found Cosmo, didn't I?

She was right of course. I did find Cosmo, and regardless of sexual orientation, I've never loved someone so completely, nor felt so completely loved by anyone in my entire [albeit short] life. And if it happened once, it can happen again.

I picked my head up off her lap and sat there, watching an ad on her TV, about to say something to give a little closure to the topic, when I saw my cat creeping around the corner and had to go catch him.

But it did happen once. I managed to run into someone who loves me just as madly as I love her. I'm sure that there's a partner of the opposite sex, drifting along out there somewhere as well. So until then, I guess I'll be up here on my tightrope, inching along, hoping that the next person I grab on to could be the one I adore for the rest of my life. If not? I'll pick up the pieces and climb back up here...

After all...what's the point of being in love if it's not madly and passionately?

Updated: I have a new banner in rotation, and also added a couple linky buttons to my whore me page.