You are now in front of the house. It is huge, and you know it well. You know every corner, all the floors, all the rooms. You can naturally find your way inside it; even in the apparent chaos you remember the location of everything you need. All in all, the house is a familiar, comforting sight to you. The corners of your lips go up as you approach the front door. It opens at the slightest touch. This house is never locked for you, even if sometimes the door gets a little rusty. No one else can enter unless you choose to let them in.

The things inside the house spring to life as soon as you step in. They run towards you. They compete for attention, for a few words, for anything you can give them. You created them, after all. You gave them their shape. Now they want to grow, to develop, and maybe go outside the house for the first time. They are your ideas, your plans, your memories. When you visit, it is because one of them is about to get bigger; and knowing this only makes them more excited.

But today you came for something else. You head straight to the stairs, climbing step after step and floor after floor. More energetic bubbles of thoughts greet you on the way. They are not as well developed as the ones on the ground floor, though. Some were forgotten as time passed and you changed. Some are so obscure you can no longer remember what they stood for. They are nothing more than a blur of colours, a reminder of their past significance. It hurts to see them like this, but you know it was necessary and, at the end of the day, inevitable.

You are almost there now. Just one more set of stairs to go, but you hesitate before climbing the first step. You look back at the silence you are about to leave behind. No one came to greet you on this floor. No happy little things skipped past and no blurry shapes waltzed by. This is where you keep your nastiest memories, your ugliest thoughts, your most unforgivable ideas. You want to forget them, so you hide them here, keeping them out of sight as you cross their floor. You know that someday they will be out again causing mayhem inside and outside the house, but now is not that time.

You climb up.

You reach the top floor. If you look out the window you can see how far up you are. Your eyes shine with pride at the sight, for you alone built this house, you alone made it this big. The last floor is one long, narrow corridor lined with doors on either side. It is all dark at the moment, except for the faint lights under some of the doors. You know well the people living in these rooms (how could you not?). Most of them make the best company.

The first door to the left leads to the room of an interesting child, one with big blue eyes and messy ash-blond hair who is always playing outside, discovering new things, and often getting into trouble for it. The child’s name is Curiosity, but even after all those years knowing each other, you still cannot tell whether they are boy or a girl (or neither, or both). Curiosity has the brightest smile, the happiest face, and the sharpest mind for a child who looks no older than six. But of course, being a child, Curiosity does not like to play alone. They have many friends to make them company and share their discoveries about the outside world.

One of those friends is Creativity. She looks about twelve; her body is thin behind the colourful but simple summer dress. Her skin is tanned by the long afternoons playing under the hot sun, acting out her fantasies. Curiosity is her best friend; their rooms are next to each other and they spend most of their time together. Creativity wears glasses. She has many frames, but her favourite is the one with pink lenses.

To the other side of the corridor, in front of Curiosity’s room, is the door everyone fears. Order lives there. She looks old. More than fifty years have stained that ugly face of hers, giving her wrinkles and moles and the nasty smile of the sadistic governess she is. No noise, no parties; nothing out of the ordinary is allowed in her presence. She was born not only to follow the rules, but to make sure everyone does so too. Luckily, the lights are off under her door. She is already asleep.

You walk past Creativity’s door until you reach the one marked “Intelligence”, the third on the left side. Intelligence’s lights are on; he is probably working on an essay or reading a book. He is a quiet fellow who thinks too much and speaks too little. Intelligence wears glasses like Creativity (though his are boring and black), plus a white polo shirt with blue tie and trousers. His hair is neat, dark-brown in colour, a startling contrast with his pale skin. He enjoys the library’s solitude more than the company of his friends. Still, Intelligence gets along with everybody. Creativity helps him become the great problem-solver, the useful “know-it-all”. With Order, he produces academic essays, research, and dissertations. Upon seeing him you always wonder if he should spend more time outdoors, but you know he has been outside more often than either of you would like.

The next door to the left is Humility’s. Her lights are off (you never expect them to be on). Humility is a nine-year-old girl; her looks and personality are not worth mentioning. Nothing is special about her. She does not go out much. You have not seen her for a while (should that worry you?). Whatever. You know that Humility’s fate is on Pride’s hands.

Pride. He lives across from Humility, on the fourth door to the right. Those two were supposed to grow up together and balance each other out. However, Pride took control of Humility, locked her away, and left to show his prowess to the world. You did nothing to stop him. Pride is no child; he somehow grew up until he was twice Humility’s age. You are so used to seeing his messy red hair and taunting smirk that you feel lonely when he finally retreats to his room, and Humility is set free.

Humility waits until she is sure Pride is gone to run outside. She enjoys the fresh air and the simple things of life. Everyone wants to play with her. They like her company and consider her a good friend, but they never challenge Pride for her freedom. His power scares them. Hurting Pride is a risk no one is willing to take.

The (green) lights are on in Fun’s room, the one next to Humility’s (though they are blue by the time you reach it, and purple as you leave). This is a place of clashing colours and loud noises; of beds made into trampolines and walls turned into canvases. Not that Fun spends much time there. Like Pride, he is too often outside. Only the combined effort of Order and Responsibility gets him back in. Fun has brown skin, brown eyes, and every colour of wig to show off in public. He is the eighteen year-old who forgot to grow up.

The next door is Optimism’s. His brother, Pessimism, lives across from him, sixth door to the right. They may be identical twins, but you never see them together. Optimism enjoys the perks of being Fun’s best friend, with plans to become more than that. Pessimism, however, has no one. Depression and Despair sometimes drag him into their misery, but the darkness of their world has no place for friendships. If Optimism’s smile warms any room, Pessimism’s grimace covers them in ice.

Depression’s and Despair’s rooms follow from Pessimism’s. The duo ventures out so rarely that you forget they are there. You only notice their presence when they come out together. They lock up Fun and Optimism, shut up Creativity and Curiosity, and make Innocence cry. They grab Pessimism, lure Sadness. Opportunism joins them if he feels like it. No one can tell when they will be back. No one can force them back.

Sadness is Optimism’s neighbour. Her door is locked from the inside and the lights are always off. She does not want to cause trouble. At the age of thirteen she already knows it is better for everyone if she stays out of the way. But her will is not enough. Sometimes, she has to come out. Nothing can stop her bursting through her door and running to the front of the house with tears flowing down her cheeks. She lies always under the same tree in the garden, and cries until the tears dry.

Everyone retreats inside when they see Sadness coming out, leaving her to cry on her own. But Optimism watches her from his window. He waits until the time is right to go to the garden, take Sadness in his arms, and carry her back to her room. He tucks her in bed and sings a lullaby. He caresses her hair until she falls asleep. Optimism then kisses Sadness’ forehead, and leaves.

You pass a few more doors: Desire, Apathy, Sarcasm… their lights are on, but they ignore you. Responsibility’s door is to your left, and the one to the right is Opportunism’s. Both lights are off. This is unusual, but understandable. Responsibility’s job is exhausting. He needs all the rest he can get. Responsibility keeps the house working in harmony. Without him, Fun and Order would be at war. He guides Creativity, reasons with Opportunism, and tries to calm down Anger. You are grateful he is there. So, for now, you let him rest.

Opportunism follows you wherever you go, but only reveals his presence when he sees fit. You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn around. Opportunism smiles. He is so tall you strain your neck to see his face. His smile brightens as he shoves you aside to open his door. You smile back, and he waves at you like an enthusiastic child. But then the door closes behind him, and the moment is broken. You wallet is no longer in your pocket.

You cross the last half of the corridor with ease. Rebellion, Spirituality, Romance… countless doors swoosh by until only three remain: Laziness on the right, Innocence to the left, and one last door in front of you. You step to the right first. What is Laziness doing now? You know the girl well enough. She takes forever to go out, and even longer to get back in. You have never seen her wearing anything but her pyjamas, and her long mess of dirty hair amazes and scares you on equal measure. Despite all this, she knows how to make the best out of Sunday mornings.

Should you knock on Innocence’s door? You have not seen the child for a while. Like Curiosity, this six-year-old’s gender is a mystery (irrelevant, really). But you miss the little thing. In the beginning, Innocence and Curiosity were the only ones keeping you company. You were best friends and did everything together. The house was much smaller then, and this corridor had only three doors. Innocence stopped coming out as you got older and your new experiences called the others into your life. The corridor stretched to give them room, and you were so excited about the new people that you forgot about the child. A faint light shines behind Innocence’s door. Maybe you will be able to see them again someday.

Only one door is left now, centred at the end of the hallway. Its position hints that the couple living behind it is special, but you took years to understand why. You saw them for the first time when Curiosity and Innocence were showing you their rooms, back when this door was one of three. The woman’s skin is of soothing blackness, and her white dress and hair shine even without a light source. Her smile makes you feel safe and warm. The man dresses in pure, deep darkness. His hair is of the same grim shade, but his skin is sickly pale. His grin makes you shiver. You thought they were the same age as you, until you saw them looking older than time itself.

This mysterious couple is, in fact, the foundation the house is built on, the pillars that keep it standing. They never leave it, and they are never apart. Good and Evil coordinate the people and the ideas that live with them. You can choose which one to listen to, but you cannot get rid of the other. They were here before the house was built and they will be here long after it is gone.

The last door creeks open. Good and Evil call for you in the form of young children. Inside, their room is like a mini universe, a glowing cosmos of blinding light and foreboding darkness. They await you sitting on the floor with none of the elegance befitting their position. The pair looks almost human in their playfulness, but their eyes sparkle with knowledge beyond your understanding. They know you seek their advice. You talk for hours, until you feel the visit has been worthwhile.

Yet, something is still missing as you make you way out of the house. You look back on it from the outside and see your friends getting on with their lives. Opportunism spies on you from his window, and Pride admires his reflection on a mirror. Creativity and Fun sing out of key with Drama and Romance as their back vocals. Not even Order can stop them. Everything is as it should be, so why does it feel wrong to leave now?

You find your answer when Curiosity runs towards you and jumps on your arms. With the child as you companion, you set off to your next adventure.