Title: "I Know How You Feel"
Author: pgrabia
Style: poem, sort of.
Characters/Pairings: House, narrator. (Refers to House/Wilson)
Warning: Spoilers for season six. Mention of suicide.
Rated: T for suicide ideation and mature subject matter.
A/N: Just something I wrote recently when I was thinking about my life after watching House episode 6:22-"Help Me" minus the atrocity of the last two minutes of the show. It's just a bunch of depressed drivel, probably the suckiest thing I've ever written so if you're actually reading this, don't say I didn't warn you.
I Know How You Feel
Sitting alone, wishing the entire world
would just melt away
and take you with it.
In pain in ways you can't describe
and knowing that not
a single person
cares.
You see life slip out of your hands.
Death cares not about
how hard you tried to
preserve her life and save your own.
It was all futile.
Her fate was set, like
yours.
You don't believe in God or fate.
You tell yourself that.
Because if they do
exist then your life isn't worth
the effort for God
to listen to your
pleas.
Everything in life is random
and you are not the
the abandoned son,
and your misery
isn't something that Something cruel
has planned in advance
for its personal
glee.
Yet here you are once again in
bitter solitude,
pathetic and weak.
The one you love doesn't want you.
What else is new? He's
pushed you away once
more.
He doesn't need you, he's moving on.
He has life and love
and he won't miss you.
He's leaving you as in the past
like one leaves the dead.
Maybe you should be
then.
You look at the pills in your hand.
A few more would do
the job, ending pain.
Ending your pathetic life and
he won't notice, not
until Wednesday at
least.
He'll think that you're resting your leg
or avoiding work.
Maybe he won't think
about you at all if she can
distract him with sex,
that favored tool of
hers!
The sun will keep shining on them
and their happy lives
and when he finds you
on Friday, perhaps, he'll shake his
dark head, cluck his tongue,
not surprised that you
bailed.
They will cry their crocodile tears
over glasses of
chilled champagne; they'll eat
caviar and toast their good fortune.
The nuisance is gone;
they are finally
free.
No one has ever cared about you
enough to mourn you
or visit your grave.
You'll be lost in the nothingness
that's beyond this life
and that suits you just
fine.
Swallow the pills and add a few
more for good measure.
Why deny them joy?
He's only your life and your hope
for some happiness.
Well, I know how you
feel.
Make sure that you succeed on the first
try or he may hide
you away again
in the asylum and tell you
it's for your own good.
That's the lie she'll sell
him.
Or, you could throw the pills away.
Make it difficult
for the witch to win.
You could get in his face and tell
him that you love him,
and that you always
have.
What have you got to lose, my friend?
Death will still be there
for you another day.
Force him to choose you, not her or
he'll lose you for good.
Put the burden on
him.
Force his hand, make him face the truth.
Maybe he'll choose you
or maybe he won't.
If you die without finding out
then you cheat yourself
of your one chance at
joy.
This place and those pills will be here
if things don't work out
the way that you want.
You can't return from the grave once
you've stepped over the
line from life to death,
Friend.
Nobody can so let's say you
give it a try and
see where it leads you.
Maybe the luck of the dice will
go your way for once.
Life's weird. You just never
know.
Don't call him first, just go over
and storm your way in!
Tell her to shut up.
Tell him the secret you have kept.
Make him understand
and ask him to choose
you.
If it means swallowing your pride
then swallow it hard.
Pride won't curl up next
to you in bed and keep you warm.
It won't whisper that
it loves you in your
ear.
But if you're lucky, he just might.
I know you're afraid;
good things don't come easy. There's no God.
Screw Fate; get off your
ass and get to it.
Go!