“This is the nature of genius, to be able to grasp the knowable even when no one else recognizes that it is present.” ~ Deepak Chopra
This was the last time! James Evan Wilson promised himself fiercely, as he stared down at what could have been a lifeless body lying limply in the بستر before him: except it was not. House had survived---yet again---despite the odds. How someone could manage to live through so many near-death experiences---and still remain the same---was beyond his comprehension. Somehow, House seemed to be able to do things that required superhuman strength. His were acts of amazing capability, that seemed even مزید incredible دیا that he was crippled سے طرف کی both debilitatingly chronic pain, the addictive need for narcotics and other substances, and the delusions that inevitably follow an obsessively narcassistic personality.
The cause behind House’s cycle of survival vs. destruction seemed to be a most curious case of mind over matter: House could resolve any situation where scientific analysis could be applied. (This, Wilson, suspected, was one of the main reasons that House’s personal life remained in tatters. His attitude towards relationships remained static: humans are, for the most part, illogical; and emotions were bound to get in the way of reason, and House based all meaning upon reason.)
Remembering a line he learned in childhood, he felt suddenly conflicted with the spaces between the lines: Those that do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.
House’s version of life failed to include some important things: the importance of love, and friendship, and family, and peace of mind. What was he in all this, if none of these things mattered?
So, if there is to be meaning in any of this, then, he will be the one who learns:
This is the last time he would care. The last time he would concern himself with the redundant reality that Gregory House had, once more, gone over the edge. The last time he would give a crap that Gregory House had hurt himself---deliberately---without any regard for how anyone else felt, یا would feel, in the aftermath. A life of possibilities gone to waste.
Yes, it was the last time…The last time he would feel the need to say something that might “cure” his friend’s ailments, knowing that they were beyond his control ( I’m not stopping.)
The last time he would feel guilty, as though his words were the cause of another’s drastic actions (Ah, yes---Detroit; the Afterlife; same difference).
The last time he would apologize for someone else’s behavior, as though he were the root of the cause: he was the reason House was lonely, House was a drug addict, House had self-destructive tendences…(God doesn’t limp .)
The last time he would believe words could change what someone else believed (I thought maybe you’d prefer people over pills…)
The last time he would believe that, because someone was a genius, they were right all the time. (What was a genius anyway……? Was it having the right to call yourself a singularity?...Was it saving everyone else but yourself?...Was it sacrificing your own happiness in the face of principle?...Was it pushing yourself beyond the limit, then, when there were no مزید limits, throwing your life away for nothing?)
The last time he would think House had all the جوابات (Sure, you’d love it if آپ could wither into nothingness, no one to complain about, no one to have to answer to… but, who would آپ have to gloat to that آپ were right…?)
The last time he would feel he was insignificant in the face of greatness. They all know what آپ did to yourself. And who is here سے طرف کی your side? Who is always there, no matter what آپ do to push us all away??
The last time he would feel stupid for thinking: This time, he’ll give in.
Or, This time, he’ll learn.
And so, when the light softly flickers…
…and the lids flutter open…
…and the eyes that you’ve come to see as the windows into the soul of brotherhood
rise upwards to rest with amazing ease upon your withered face, آپ draw in a sharp breath of resolve---and proclaim with an air of sudden maturity:
“You’re an idiot.”
Because, even though آپ have bared witness to his many flaws, آپ love the innocence in his stubborn will to be true to what he believes, no matter what.
And because you’re stronger than آپ ever knew yourself to be.
This was the last time! James Evan Wilson promised himself fiercely, as he stared down at what could have been a lifeless body lying limply in the بستر before him: except it was not. House had survived---yet again---despite the odds. How someone could manage to live through so many near-death experiences---and still remain the same---was beyond his comprehension. Somehow, House seemed to be able to do things that required superhuman strength. His were acts of amazing capability, that seemed even مزید incredible دیا that he was crippled سے طرف کی both debilitatingly chronic pain, the addictive need for narcotics and other substances, and the delusions that inevitably follow an obsessively narcassistic personality.
The cause behind House’s cycle of survival vs. destruction seemed to be a most curious case of mind over matter: House could resolve any situation where scientific analysis could be applied. (This, Wilson, suspected, was one of the main reasons that House’s personal life remained in tatters. His attitude towards relationships remained static: humans are, for the most part, illogical; and emotions were bound to get in the way of reason, and House based all meaning upon reason.)
Remembering a line he learned in childhood, he felt suddenly conflicted with the spaces between the lines: Those that do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.
House’s version of life failed to include some important things: the importance of love, and friendship, and family, and peace of mind. What was he in all this, if none of these things mattered?
So, if there is to be meaning in any of this, then, he will be the one who learns:
This is the last time he would care. The last time he would concern himself with the redundant reality that Gregory House had, once more, gone over the edge. The last time he would give a crap that Gregory House had hurt himself---deliberately---without any regard for how anyone else felt, یا would feel, in the aftermath. A life of possibilities gone to waste.
Yes, it was the last time…The last time he would feel the need to say something that might “cure” his friend’s ailments, knowing that they were beyond his control ( I’m not stopping.)
The last time he would feel guilty, as though his words were the cause of another’s drastic actions (Ah, yes---Detroit; the Afterlife; same difference).
The last time he would apologize for someone else’s behavior, as though he were the root of the cause: he was the reason House was lonely, House was a drug addict, House had self-destructive tendences…(God doesn’t limp .)
The last time he would believe words could change what someone else believed (I thought maybe you’d prefer people over pills…)
The last time he would believe that, because someone was a genius, they were right all the time. (What was a genius anyway……? Was it having the right to call yourself a singularity?...Was it saving everyone else but yourself?...Was it sacrificing your own happiness in the face of principle?...Was it pushing yourself beyond the limit, then, when there were no مزید limits, throwing your life away for nothing?)
The last time he would think House had all the جوابات (Sure, you’d love it if آپ could wither into nothingness, no one to complain about, no one to have to answer to… but, who would آپ have to gloat to that آپ were right…?)
The last time he would feel he was insignificant in the face of greatness. They all know what آپ did to yourself. And who is here سے طرف کی your side? Who is always there, no matter what آپ do to push us all away??
The last time he would feel stupid for thinking: This time, he’ll give in.
Or, This time, he’ll learn.
And so, when the light softly flickers…
…and the lids flutter open…
…and the eyes that you’ve come to see as the windows into the soul of brotherhood
rise upwards to rest with amazing ease upon your withered face, آپ draw in a sharp breath of resolve---and proclaim with an air of sudden maturity:
“You’re an idiot.”
Because, even though آپ have bared witness to his many flaws, آپ love the innocence in his stubborn will to be true to what he believes, no matter what.
And because you’re stronger than آپ ever knew yourself to be.