Gazing into the eyes of a mad man is never a good move. Gazing into the eyes of an old mad man is even worse. Gazing into the eyes of an old mad man with a blue box is death.
The Doctor was old, too old. I lived, lived, lived and then regenerated. Never dying, always alive. After a few cycles of this a person would go mad. I already had and my madness is bigger than the combined hate of the Daleks, which saying quite a lot.
After a while a mad person will start hurting others. I didn't, not most of the time. But the temptation is still there, like any other person's. It whispers dark thoughts each time I am enraged or upset. Let them suffer, like we have for more than their short pathetic lives. It's bittersweet.
They say a person's eyes are a window to their soul, but I think they resemble doors. My are locked with the best security in the universe, and if any of my true self leaks out then the receiver would go mad. For in my eyes is knowledge and madness. Knowledge of everything and everyone the universe has to offer. Even other universes.
I know more about the universe than the gods, if they existed. I knew more about you than you would ever know.
I know when you were born, when you will die, and how much you're worth.
This girl was looking at me. At my locked eyes. She won't see anything, she won't, she won't, she won't, won't….
She sighs and wraps her gentle hands around yours. She didn't see anything right? She squeezes your hands gently.
"Sweetie, you are so easy to read." She laughs. It's a beautiful sound, and you have heard many in your unbearably long life.
She has…..And she's still her.
You look at her with a questionable expression. You open your mouth but her finger on your mouth stops you.
She leans in to your ear and whispers,
"Sweetie, I'm mad too."
For the first time in what felt like ages you had a real smile on your face.