Author's Note: Vent, part two. That's my remedy. I don't even know what this is about, really.
It's too much to bear. All of this. Those countless times we were talking in one of the on-call rooms with a cup of hot coffee and I could have sworn she was going to confide in me but changed her mind literally one second before speaking up and turning the whole thing upside down, as if there was nothing wrong, even though it's blatantly obvious that there is. I don't want to force her. I don't want to interrogate her. I just want to help the rose survive. But how can I do that without knowing how sick it is?
I haven't slept well in days because I kept thinking about her. I wonder if that's how House feels? If yes, then I can't understand how he's so brilliant all the time and not a sleep-deprived zombie like me. I grabbed the wrong syringe today; I almost killed a person.
I guess he pulls through because he gets to solve the puzzle most of the time. Fate hasn't blessed me with the same gift.
Maybe it's beause I'm a woman, intrigued by mysteries. Remy is an enigma, a child in a bubble. Maybe the unknown is to women what shiny objects are to magpies. God damn feelings make me have to struggle with my own will. I'm fighting a losing battle nonetheless. What kind of existence is that?
I never actually address her by the name. I only know because of a file concerning her health state; that I might have considered reading, but I'm in no place to pry into her privacy. I just want to know who she is and what this means. I want to know everything so bad. Why? Why can't I keep this urge under control? Has always finding the right answer in the end for years turned me into this?
She's like fire. It's bright and captivating, doing its own little dance, and when you stare at it long enough, you start to believe you can hold it in your hand, that everyone who's ever told you it burns was mistaken and that every time you've experienced it on your own, it was a mere coincidence. Then you reach for it, and you get hurt by the flames. Then again if it's the pain that brings you down to earth, maybe I need just that.
I sure as hell need something, but at the same time I'm scared of the pain; which is only rational, no? It's just another animal instinct. It's like a vaccine that hurts a little to prevent much worse potential problems in the future. I need to get my vaccine. I can do it. I'm ready. Because the vaccine won't kill me, but as time passes, the fear will for sure.
I can't wait till I get home and till I'm finally able to break down freely. That's my remedy and the only thing that can help before it comes back to eat me alive.
Who is this Allison? Not only am I obsessed, I'm also paranoid.