Lacuna [The 100]

Chapter 3

Blanchard gave a hint of a smile.
"You still have your sense of humor, don't you?"

I simply rolled my eyes.
"So what brings you here, Blanchard?"

"First of all, it's Dr Blanchard." He enphasized the doctor part. "Second of all, I'm worried about you, Genevieve..." He took my hand in his.

I freed my hand and sighed. "Good night Blanchard" I got up pretending to tide my stuff up.

"I'm serious." Blanchard was now standing in front of me, blocking my movements. "You've been through a lot in the past 6 years, but you never opened up about how you really feel." He tried to take both of my hands in his.

"Can you not invade my personal space, please? I don't want to talk right know..." 

He lifted my chin up so that I was looking at him. "And you think that staring at the wall for hours while you make a monologue in your head, is better?" 

Now don't get me wrong: I appreciate Blanchard caring about me, but sometimes it just doesn't feel right talking to anyone.
I don't like talking about my feelings. 
I don't like talking in general.
I must admit that talking to myself isn't any better either.

"Alright but when you're ready to talk, you know where to find me." 
He gave me a quick hug and left.

I love that about him. He never gave up on people, no matter how hopeless they are.
To be clear, I wasn't hopeless, not at all. I was just being a "main character".
I don't really know what that means but I used to have a friend (incredible right?) that, everytime I was unnecessarily dramatic, would call me that.
She said that it was a popular term a century ago, or so. 
Did I believe her? Not at all.
Am I unnecessarily dramatic? Maybe.