I don't know when it started, but somewhere along the line I fell in love with House.

I forgot how caustic and irritating he could be and began to focus on other things, like the colour of his eyes and how amazing he is at what he does.

He didn't notice how I felt.

He claims to be observant. He should really start taking a look at what's right in front of his face.

I suppose you don't notice what you're not expecting, and I doubt he thought anyone could ever find him attractive. It's no secret that he hates himself, inside and out.

He comes to work every day to distract him from that, to give him a reason to live, and the puzzles are what get him through each day. It's a good thing he's so brilliant, otherwise he probably would have killed himself a long time ago.

I'm actually surprised he hasn't anyway.

I wish I could offer him a little bit of the happiness that Stacy destroyed when she left, but I'm not the one he loves. He would stay with me to keep me happy, and I probably would be, but it's not my happiness I'm searching for.

I want to see him smile and mean it. I want him to look up at the sun one morning and get up because it's a beautiful day, not because he has another dying patient to tend to.

He doesn't pretend to be something he's not, and it's refreshing, but I wish that he was a little bit happier.

When I finally told him how I felt, we went on one date. It wasn't the best night of my life, and I certainly didn't enjoy some of the things he had to say about me, but he's wrong.

I'm not an ignorant little girl who thinks she can fix him and make it all better. I'm old enough to know that not every fairytale can have it's happily ever after.

I do want him to be happy though, whatever it takes.

Even if that's not me.