Memory House

Control

I am a creative person, always have been. Events in my past have mixed that creativity with with extreme neuroticism. I see faces everywhere. I have memories I know are not real.

I never considered myself a stable person. My personality is like a ship in a hurricane, rocking and tipping, but always trying to find rest again.

My life and my personality work against my hunger for control. There are too many unknown factors. Too many things I like to call 'Latent Crazy' in my mind. Someone triggers something inside me and I snap. I lose control, without ever knowing why. There's such a need for control in my mind, it feels like a rare commodity. It isn't that I don't value it, but I lost it somewhere, and I haven't been able to find it.

My unending quest for control has lead me down many dark and lonely roads. I've tried it all, anorexia, bulimia, self harm. They were only desperate cries for help, and they offered no real control. Eventually they stripped me of the power I had left. I needed another option.

I used my creativity to built myself a house. In each room would be a memory. The layout of the house never changes, but the memories inside do. Bad versions of myself I hide away, and when necessary, I free them again. When I began, The house was a crowded mess, filled with angry memories and bitterness. Now it seems to be peaceful.

One thing in the house surprised me, quite pleasantly. An adult, who represented my future. When I visited my house, she changed depending on the life-course I was on. Her age was always about 20. I didn't expect her in my house at all. I guess it was my mind warning me of the dangers to come, as I looked at the dangers from my long-forgotten past. I felt so sorry for that poor girl. I'd come home one day, and find her happy and content. On others, she would be dark and depressed.