Declaration (PG)
Posted 7/7/06 to house_wilson
Posted 7/8/06 to hugh_and_robert
It's not what you think.
Declaration by Dee Laundry
Disclaimer: Every word is completely true.
I’ve fallen in love, I’m in hell, and it’s All Your Fault.
Oh, I’ve dallied in you before, sure, chasing your phantom around the internet: IMDB, fan forums, some secret lurking as you mused here and there. It was a pleasant dalliance, an hour here, an evening there. And if some of those evenings left me flushed and sweaty, well, who’s to know?
It was right before break when you gripped my heart, held it coolly, uncaring. You love me, you whispered, and I struggled to deny it, even as my mind raced and tingles filled every pore. Ardor, from the Latin, to burn.
Then I was off on holiday, with my family, a continent away, back to normal. Away from work, away from you, my attentions re-focused, and I could be fully with them. They made me happy, and I did my best to return that favor.
I wasn’t wholly without you. I watched the episodes, which I’d sworn not to do. But I found it easy to shut off the television and move to the next thing. Swimming with the kids, drinks with friends - everything was right, and easy, and calm. I caught up on sleep.
But the plane landed, I’m back, and I’m smothering in my devotion. I spend my days desperately trying to focus on the work, and even when you’re not there, you’re in my mind. I miss entire chunks of conversations that I should be in. I’m constantly pulling a metaphorical veil, sometimes to hide what must be clear evidence of your effect, sometimes to retreat into the happy fantasyland you’ve stirred that is almost, almost as good as actually being with you.
My nights, oh, my nights are more frantic than anyone could ever imagine. There’s dinner, I can’t have you yet, and I eat as fast as possible. My children want to talk to me, and I try to keep my regular pace, but I find myself hurrying them along, alright, bye now, because I’m desperate for more time with you. Then suddenly, I’m free, you’re there, and just hearing what you have to say is an ecstasy. I struggle to find my own words, even as I’m burning - what’s worthy of you? How can I express the thoughts that race and crowd, shoving each other in their fervor to be the first out?
It’s 10:15, and I tell myself firmly, just a few minutes more, I have to get up early. But I lose myself in you and suddenly it’s three a.m. You seem to need no sleep at all, and I imagine you laughing at me as I crawl into bed for a short nap before another day, when you’ll consume me again. How many times can I rise like the phoenix, before it’s through and I’m only ashes?
Damn you, House/Wilson fandom.
Posted 7/8/06 to hugh_and_robert
It's not what you think.
Declaration by Dee Laundry
Disclaimer: Every word is completely true.
I’ve fallen in love, I’m in hell, and it’s All Your Fault.
Oh, I’ve dallied in you before, sure, chasing your phantom around the internet: IMDB, fan forums, some secret lurking as you mused here and there. It was a pleasant dalliance, an hour here, an evening there. And if some of those evenings left me flushed and sweaty, well, who’s to know?
It was right before break when you gripped my heart, held it coolly, uncaring. You love me, you whispered, and I struggled to deny it, even as my mind raced and tingles filled every pore. Ardor, from the Latin, to burn.
Then I was off on holiday, with my family, a continent away, back to normal. Away from work, away from you, my attentions re-focused, and I could be fully with them. They made me happy, and I did my best to return that favor.
I wasn’t wholly without you. I watched the episodes, which I’d sworn not to do. But I found it easy to shut off the television and move to the next thing. Swimming with the kids, drinks with friends - everything was right, and easy, and calm. I caught up on sleep.
But the plane landed, I’m back, and I’m smothering in my devotion. I spend my days desperately trying to focus on the work, and even when you’re not there, you’re in my mind. I miss entire chunks of conversations that I should be in. I’m constantly pulling a metaphorical veil, sometimes to hide what must be clear evidence of your effect, sometimes to retreat into the happy fantasyland you’ve stirred that is almost, almost as good as actually being with you.
My nights, oh, my nights are more frantic than anyone could ever imagine. There’s dinner, I can’t have you yet, and I eat as fast as possible. My children want to talk to me, and I try to keep my regular pace, but I find myself hurrying them along, alright, bye now, because I’m desperate for more time with you. Then suddenly, I’m free, you’re there, and just hearing what you have to say is an ecstasy. I struggle to find my own words, even as I’m burning - what’s worthy of you? How can I express the thoughts that race and crowd, shoving each other in their fervor to be the first out?
It’s 10:15, and I tell myself firmly, just a few minutes more, I have to get up early. But I lose myself in you and suddenly it’s three a.m. You seem to need no sleep at all, and I imagine you laughing at me as I crawl into bed for a short nap before another day, when you’ll consume me again. How many times can I rise like the phoenix, before it’s through and I’m only ashes?
Damn you, House/Wilson fandom.