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Constant
by Jackyblu
You are the constant in my life. You let me lean on you without making me feel weak.
I never have to explain. You just take the weight of me without complaint.
I don't have to change for you, though I know you wish I would. You don't penalize me because I believe I can't. If I can't change for you, then I can't change for anyone. Not even myself.
I tease you, you tease back.
I laugh at you. You laugh at me, but more likely you'll laugh with me. You're the only one who can make me laugh, and those moments are precious.
I exasperate you and you aggravate me. You become furious with me. I can't help the way I am. Maybe I just don't want to change. Change can be frightening. Too much in my life has changed. Change means things are no longer in my control. I need to feel in control.
I push you and you push back.
I shove you, and you walk away. Then you turn up at my door asking permission to return to my life, as if it was your fault. It seldom is.
I hurt you, and you may not believe it, but you hurt me.
I go to you and ask if 'we're okay'? I need to know. I need you.
You ask for forgiveness. There is nothing to forgive between us.
You are my family. You are the brother I never had.
You protect me. You watch over me. You try to keep me healthy. You enable me.
You keep me from being alone.
I kept you from anyone else.
You are my best friend. You are my only friend.
You are my heart. You are my soul.
You are my constant, and I am not worthy.
If I believed in God, I would thank Him everyday for you.
But if He doesn't exist, then how was a bastard like me blessed with you?
In my heart I thank Him, constantly.
*
You've pushed me away again. I know it's because you're in constant pain and I made that stupid suggestion. When will I learn to close my mouth? You didn't need me to give you advice. You needed quiet understanding.
You always take me back, and sometimes I don't know why. I hurt you and yet you let me back into your life. This time I swear I'll be what you need.
I need you.
You are so much of my life. I am hollow without you.
You are the spark that I sometimes see reflected in my eyes.
I know I irritate you. You infuriate me. We won't change.
You can't understand my neediness. You laugh at my fear of being alone. You've always been there, a constant in my life. After three failed marriages, I am a fool to look elsewhere for what I have already been given.
The best times I have ever had in my life I have shared with you.
The quiet reflective times were with you.
The painful lonely times were made less so by you.
The fearful, anguished filled times, were about you.
My soul has scars to match your physical ones because you've almost left me too many times.
Who would laugh at my jokes?
Your intelligence, curiosity and wit are like `the loaves and fishes' story from the bible. A never-ending meal that feeds all present, and I am a ravenous student consuming all that I can from you. I am not entitled. I am greedy.
Who would give me permission to drop my inhibitions and enjoy life, to leave death to the dying for just a little while? You allow me to play, reminding me that it's not a sin to have fun.
You get me into trouble. I love it because I was always the `good boy'. With you, I have a reputation. I can't let you know that I like it. That is a constant part of our game. That's the part you enjoy so much and I won't take that from you.
I know that sometimes you're afraid. So am I. Those are the times we spend quietly together, not speaking about it. Just being in each other's company until it passes. They are good times coming out of bad.
You want so much to care deeply, but you haven't been able to show that part of yourself for a very long time. Since you were a child possibly. But I know it's in you. Sometimes I see glimpses in your eyes. I hear it in awkward silences. I want you to know that it's okay.
What I want for you is freedom from your pain.
What I want from you is freedom to care about you.
Had I never met you, I would still have known that there was something missing from my life. I would have searched for that missing piece of me, constantly.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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