Our house includes the few, but often used rooms:

• Insanities
• Depression
• Paranoia
• Flashbacks
• Insecurities

And our insanities room includes the lovely few of contement, through the one, of two mirros that you can actually see out of.

Interested in taking a stay in contentment?

Oh, my beautiful, we don’t even know how to stay there. Someone’s broken the window in the insanities room once before, which caused vines to start growing in through the window into the room. Sadly, someone had fixed that window. Maybe we shouldn’t use the word “fixed”, but you know where I’m going with this. Though we can’t guarantee a stay at contentment, if you find a way there, feel free to stay as long as you please, but otherwise, you can enjoy the few on the old bed in the insanities room.

If the light in the middle of the ceiling of the insanities begins to flicker, we advise you touch, attempt to fix, or call us to fix the light. That light breaks and fixes itself when it pleases, take our advise and don’t irritate it.

As a result of the light breaking, you will almost immediately find yourself in the room of depression. Once again, we don’t know how these happen, but this house works in strange ways. You’ll find yourself laying on the floor, looking at the light as it slowly dies out, flickering, almost as though it’s mocking you. Let it be.

It does that a lot.

Now, from the depression room, you may stay in that room for a while, unless, of course, you’re mind decides to go off for a little wonder. Don’t you worry you’re pretty head, you won’t be alone once it goes.

If you’re mind decides it can’t stay in the depression, when you close you’re eyes, someone will talk to you.

Don’t listen.

Once you do,

You’re stuck there.

Good luck.

Your mind has wandered into the paranoia. We’re still undecided on whether we should call this a room, but we do, because it’s not really outside of the house. It’s surely in the house.

We’ve wondered about whether to call it a room or not, because there’s no walls, no ceiling, sometimes not even a floor. You’re just there. In nothingness. Just the voices. The sounds. This place drains all your senses until you’re only left with hearing. The voices, whoever they are, don’t want you to see them, for reasons, we don’t know, but we still don’t know who they are. They know what makes you’re heart race, and they use it against you. They know when you’re scared, and they get louder, and closer. They don’t stop until you break down, or you’re on the edge of breaking down.

It ends though.

We don’t know how, but it does. Eventually they go. They can’t stay forever.

They’re kind of like the light in the insanities room.

They come and go as they please.

However, if your mind doesn’t wonder off into the nothingness of paranoia, sometimes it will lead you into a chair. You won’t realize we’re your going until your there. You’ll be receiving a show in the flashbacks room.

This is the only room with a chair. But you’re strapped down to the chair, so you can’t get up. There’s also a projector, playing over memories.

You’re forced to watch these memories that you don’t want to remember. Somehow when you’re in that room, you can’t close you’re eyes. We can’t explain how, because there’s not really anything holding your eyes open, they just won’t close, no matter how hard you try.

Sometimes, from the flashbacks, you dropped into the insecurities.

Before you know it, the chair suddenly tips forward and the straps that were holding you down mere seconds before have let go. Once you’ve hit the ground, you realize you’re looking at yourself.

The floor is a mirror.

But then you realize, so are the walls and the ceiling. The whole place it made of mirrors.

In every mirror an insecurity is pin-pointed and it’s all you can notice in the reflection.

As you try make you’re way through the what seems, never ending maze, you’re forced to look at your insecurities the whole way. No matter where you look, another insecurity. One after another. Every reflection.

Suddenly everything goes dark.

You’re sitting a hallway.

It’s dark, but you can still see, from whatever light it coming in. It looks old, like in those abandoned motels in movies, but it’s comfortable. You’re sitting at the end of it and you see doors, but there’s something odd about them. They look kind of fake.

Are they the doors into the rooms?

We’ve never tried to open any.

Before you know it, you’re admiring contentment through the window, while sitting on the bed in that white room with the chipping, cracked paint.

This house works in odd ways.

We don’t control it, nor do we stop it.

Welcome to our house of insanities.

Welcome to my mind.

We hope you enjoy your stay, don’t be shy.