Metacognition
Metacognition
He lied on his couch, staring at the dimly lit television. Travel Channel, boring.
He sighed and faced upwards, eyes meeting the beige ceiling above.
Beige. Just like the color he’d wear. Well, not all he’d wear, but the color of his pants, at least. He always dressed sharp, no matter where. He didn’t even realize how many pairs of pants he had that were beige. They were either brown or beige. Did he have no fashion sense or something?
A sigh. Why was he thinking about him? He’s long gone, he told himself. Get yourself together. It’s not like you’ll never see him again.
…right?
Another sigh. He pushed beneath him and brought his legs down, wincing at the pain in his right leg as his foot touched the ground and he put pressure on it. He laid a hand on his throbbing leg.
It was her fault; their fault for this. She temporarily believed him, but she ended up siding with her. He remembers each and every pain filled second. The coma he went into. Her.
No, not her. Anyone but her, his mind screamed. He shook away the thoughts of her.
What about…
The person who thought of him as one of the brightest minds in the hospital, and also one of the biggest assholes on the face of the planet.
She wasn’t that bad. Played as mama bird most of the time, making sure her child, her hospital, was in tip top condition. Oh, how many times he and she got into arguments, ending up in him winning.
The old blue eyes never fail, he smirks at himself.
Then a tinge of guilt. Confusion hits. Her…
They dated. He didn’t enjoy it the first time, but he couldn’t get the thought of her out. He ended up moving on, though. Question was, did she? She always denied it, got flustered, but she stayed a professional. Looking into those green eyes; sometimes he couldn’t look away.
No, damn it. I don’t care, he convinces himself.
Hard, a real professional. He was a real doctor. He’d love to mess with him, hell, he loved to mess with everyone. But with him, he had more fun because of difference. He was a brother, and he never let him forget that.
Was a bastard of a brother though, he chuckled to himself.
And last, but not least, our little wombat. Shy little bugger, but he had nice hair. He could be mean, but hell, that’s not in his nature. He was nothing more of a slave to him, just like the rest of them. Other than her that is.
He thought of them. Thought of what he thought. Metacognition, was that what they called it?
He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t depressed or pissed. Well, no more so than usual. But he was happy enough to work there. He got used to the old routine anyway, and that was okay with him.
His thoughts were interrupted by his phone. He groans and reaches out for it, pressing the talk button.
“Yeah.”
“House, get down here, the patient’s stats are dropping!” said the familiar voice, frantically.
“You’ve got doctors there, don’t you? I’m not the only one who knows how to use a syringe in there.” And with that, he shut the phone and laid back on the couch.
That familiar voice. The one that used to follow him about in his very home. Annoying, yet relieving, in a way. He was his only real friend, or anyone he’d open himself to. Only enough for him to see what really meant to him. Someone to laugh and joke to about, someone to put up with him, someone who’ll make him pancakes.
Well, the last one doesn’t count anymore, since he’s gone.
“What the hell am I doing?” he thought aloud. What were with these sudden thoughts of his coworkers? Not like he really gave a damn about what was happening around there anyway.
…or did he?
He sighs. He turns on his side to face the television screen again.
Maybe the Travel Channel isn’t all that boring after all.
He sighed and faced upwards, eyes meeting the beige ceiling above.
Beige. Just like the color he’d wear. Well, not all he’d wear, but the color of his pants, at least. He always dressed sharp, no matter where. He didn’t even realize how many pairs of pants he had that were beige. They were either brown or beige. Did he have no fashion sense or something?
A sigh. Why was he thinking about him? He’s long gone, he told himself. Get yourself together. It’s not like you’ll never see him again.
…right?
Another sigh. He pushed beneath him and brought his legs down, wincing at the pain in his right leg as his foot touched the ground and he put pressure on it. He laid a hand on his throbbing leg.
It was her fault; their fault for this. She temporarily believed him, but she ended up siding with her. He remembers each and every pain filled second. The coma he went into. Her.
No, not her. Anyone but her, his mind screamed. He shook away the thoughts of her.
What about…
The person who thought of him as one of the brightest minds in the hospital, and also one of the biggest assholes on the face of the planet.
She wasn’t that bad. Played as mama bird most of the time, making sure her child, her hospital, was in tip top condition. Oh, how many times he and she got into arguments, ending up in him winning.
The old blue eyes never fail, he smirks at himself.
Then a tinge of guilt. Confusion hits. Her…
They dated. He didn’t enjoy it the first time, but he couldn’t get the thought of her out. He ended up moving on, though. Question was, did she? She always denied it, got flustered, but she stayed a professional. Looking into those green eyes; sometimes he couldn’t look away.
No, damn it. I don’t care, he convinces himself.
Hard, a real professional. He was a real doctor. He’d love to mess with him, hell, he loved to mess with everyone. But with him, he had more fun because of difference. He was a brother, and he never let him forget that.
Was a bastard of a brother though, he chuckled to himself.
And last, but not least, our little wombat. Shy little bugger, but he had nice hair. He could be mean, but hell, that’s not in his nature. He was nothing more of a slave to him, just like the rest of them. Other than her that is.
He thought of them. Thought of what he thought. Metacognition, was that what they called it?
He wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t depressed or pissed. Well, no more so than usual. But he was happy enough to work there. He got used to the old routine anyway, and that was okay with him.
His thoughts were interrupted by his phone. He groans and reaches out for it, pressing the talk button.
“Yeah.”
“House, get down here, the patient’s stats are dropping!” said the familiar voice, frantically.
“You’ve got doctors there, don’t you? I’m not the only one who knows how to use a syringe in there.” And with that, he shut the phone and laid back on the couch.
That familiar voice. The one that used to follow him about in his very home. Annoying, yet relieving, in a way. He was his only real friend, or anyone he’d open himself to. Only enough for him to see what really meant to him. Someone to laugh and joke to about, someone to put up with him, someone who’ll make him pancakes.
Well, the last one doesn’t count anymore, since he’s gone.
“What the hell am I doing?” he thought aloud. What were with these sudden thoughts of his coworkers? Not like he really gave a damn about what was happening around there anyway.
…or did he?
He sighs. He turns on his side to face the television screen again.
Maybe the Travel Channel isn’t all that boring after all.