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cuddys_house2009-08-04 11:41 am
whatstheddx.livejournal.com) wrote in cuddys_house2009-08-04 11:41 am
Letter to Cuddy
(OOC: Posting this here because it's too big to post in a comment. Click images to make larger. Links back to this thread.)
(OOC: In case the images don't show up for some reason, here is the text version of the letter:)
Cuddy,
For the record, I hate writing letters. But Dr. Lecter decided it would be a good idea if I took time chewingon liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti over what I wish I could say to you instead of chewing each other's asses out like we end up doing every time we try to talk things over. In some ways, our relationship is more cannibalistic than my doctor is, and she's pretty damn cannibalistic with the way she chews my ear off with therapy every single day. She gave me some guidelines about what to write but I've been sitting here for over an hour in this craphole nuthouse, drinking hospital grade coffee and staring at blank paper with no clue what to say.
I guess I'll start with acronyms - PTSD. I never wanted to believe you when you kept insisting that acronym applied to me. I never thought I'd be 'one of those people'. Wilson and other people, even you, liked to tell me that one day I'd do or say something to the wrong person and end up with a bite mark on me than I gave them. I guess the guy who shot me did exactly that. He definitely has sharper teeth than I do; the bite mark he left on me hasn't even scabbed over yet. Sometimes, I still can't believe it happened. I thought ignoring it would be the way to move past it. I thought the nightmares would subside. I thought the guy's face would eventually fade from my mind. I thought the bite mark would scab over and heal on its own. It hasn't, though. The nightmares haven't stopped. I can still remember every little detail about the guy's face. I can still remember everything like it happened yesterday. Nothing gets better over time - things just get more miserable the more time passes.
Which brings me to my next point - us. We've been playing that same waiting game. We've both been waiting for things to get better, when things have only been getting more and more miserable for both of us. I guess that's because we're both stupidly stubborn, opinionated, argumentative pains in the asses. Not a great combination for a healthy relationship. Probably not a great combination for parents-to-be, either. I almost can't remember how we came to be in a relationship because it happened so fast. Everything has happened so fast. Maybe that's where we went wrong. We've definitely left our own set of bite marks all over each other, some of which haven't scabbed over. Biting is something that's only supposed to happen during sex but somehow we seem to have confused it for biting chunks out of each other instead. Like I said, cannibalistic.
All that said... I like what we have, all the fighting aside. And even with some of the fighting not aside because it's not like that was ever going to stop between us, whether we had a healthy relationship or not. I like that it's not 'normal', whatever normal is when it comes to relationships. I like the way you challenge me. You've always challenged me and I've always admired you for that. You've always stood your ground when it comes right down to it, and I've always admired that, as well. You frustrate the crap out of me, and I've always weirdly admired that, too. You're a strong, intelligent, challenging, good-looking pain in the ass. With a great body and great tits. (I know you're probably rolling your eyes at this part right now but I know you love the fact that I admire how you look, too.)
One of the guidelines I was given was to write to you about all the things I love about you. Yeah - if you guessed that I rolled my eyes at that part, you guessed right. (And yet, here I am, writing this out anyway.) I suppose I could start on a positive note and tell you all the things about you that drive me up the wall. Or I could start by telling you that I love your smile. I love making you laugh. I love the way you make me laugh. I love it when you run your fingers through my hair (what's left of it). I love waking up to your morning breath and going to sleep with you snoring into the pillow. (And yes, you do snore.) I miss lounging around on the couch watching TV with you. I miss driving you nuts. I definitely miss sex. I miss us.
I have no idea where we'll end up. Hopefully, we'll end up still together in five year's time with all limbs still intact and my balls still attached to my body. By that point, our kid would be five years old, you'd be a great albeit anally retentive mom, I'd be a cool dad who lets Junior get away with murder just to piss you off, we'd have this dysfunctional family that works for us. Maybe your mom would even forgive me for being such an asshole, and maybe she'll have forgiven you for procreating with one. Dr. Lecter says that when I get out of here, I'll need more time off from work until she's satisfied that the bite marks have at least gone into the proliferative phase. Maybe that's a good thing. Not having enough time is something that's always bothered me about us. Having time off would mean more time together. Or maybe that's a bad thing. Maybe it'll be good and bad. I can never tell with us.
I just realized I've been writing this letter now for almost two hours. I'm not even sure if I achieved the goal with this letter that this was supposed to achieve. I guess I'll find out when you read this. Bottom line is when I get out of here, I hope things will get better between us. I miss you like crazy. But the break is probably a good thing, too, for both of us. Maybe when I get out of here, things will be different. Good different. Maybe we'll stop being cannibals and keep the biting only to the bedroom.
I love you.
House.
(OOC: In case the images don't show up for some reason, here is the text version of the letter:)
Cuddy,
For the record, I hate writing letters. But Dr. Lecter decided it would be a good idea if I took time chewing
I guess I'll start with acronyms - PTSD. I never wanted to believe you when you kept insisting that acronym applied to me. I never thought I'd be 'one of those people'. Wilson and other people, even you, liked to tell me that one day I'd do or say something to the wrong person and end up with a bite mark on me than I gave them. I guess the guy who shot me did exactly that. He definitely has sharper teeth than I do; the bite mark he left on me hasn't even scabbed over yet. Sometimes, I still can't believe it happened. I thought ignoring it would be the way to move past it. I thought the nightmares would subside. I thought the guy's face would eventually fade from my mind. I thought the bite mark would scab over and heal on its own. It hasn't, though. The nightmares haven't stopped. I can still remember every little detail about the guy's face. I can still remember everything like it happened yesterday. Nothing gets better over time - things just get more miserable the more time passes.
Which brings me to my next point - us. We've been playing that same waiting game. We've both been waiting for things to get better, when things have only been getting more and more miserable for both of us. I guess that's because we're both stupidly stubborn, opinionated, argumentative pains in the asses. Not a great combination for a healthy relationship. Probably not a great combination for parents-to-be, either. I almost can't remember how we came to be in a relationship because it happened so fast. Everything has happened so fast. Maybe that's where we went wrong. We've definitely left our own set of bite marks all over each other, some of which haven't scabbed over. Biting is something that's only supposed to happen during sex but somehow we seem to have confused it for biting chunks out of each other instead. Like I said, cannibalistic.
All that said... I like what we have, all the fighting aside. And even with some of the fighting not aside because it's not like that was ever going to stop between us, whether we had a healthy relationship or not. I like that it's not 'normal', whatever normal is when it comes to relationships. I like the way you challenge me. You've always challenged me and I've always admired you for that. You've always stood your ground when it comes right down to it, and I've always admired that, as well. You frustrate the crap out of me, and I've always weirdly admired that, too. You're a strong, intelligent, challenging, good-looking pain in the ass. With a great body and great tits. (I know you're probably rolling your eyes at this part right now but I know you love the fact that I admire how you look, too.)
One of the guidelines I was given was to write to you about all the things I love about you. Yeah - if you guessed that I rolled my eyes at that part, you guessed right. (And yet, here I am, writing this out anyway.) I suppose I could start on a positive note and tell you all the things about you that drive me up the wall. Or I could start by telling you that I love your smile. I love making you laugh. I love the way you make me laugh. I love it when you run your fingers through my hair (what's left of it). I love waking up to your morning breath and going to sleep with you snoring into the pillow. (And yes, you do snore.) I miss lounging around on the couch watching TV with you. I miss driving you nuts. I definitely miss sex. I miss us.
I have no idea where we'll end up. Hopefully, we'll end up still together in five year's time with all limbs still intact and my balls still attached to my body. By that point, our kid would be five years old, you'd be a great albeit anally retentive mom, I'd be a cool dad who lets Junior get away with murder just to piss you off, we'd have this dysfunctional family that works for us. Maybe your mom would even forgive me for being such an asshole, and maybe she'll have forgiven you for procreating with one. Dr. Lecter says that when I get out of here, I'll need more time off from work until she's satisfied that the bite marks have at least gone into the proliferative phase. Maybe that's a good thing. Not having enough time is something that's always bothered me about us. Having time off would mean more time together. Or maybe that's a bad thing. Maybe it'll be good and bad. I can never tell with us.
I just realized I've been writing this letter now for almost two hours. I'm not even sure if I achieved the goal with this letter that this was supposed to achieve. I guess I'll find out when you read this. Bottom line is when I get out of here, I hope things will get better between us. I miss you like crazy. But the break is probably a good thing, too, for both of us. Maybe when I get out of here, things will be different. Good different. Maybe we'll stop being cannibals and keep the biting only to the bedroom.
I love you.
House.