Greetings, Salutations, and Hello.
Welcome to the twisted mess of thought and imagination called my mind. Where I am sane, and you are not.
A guest you are here, and a vision of my creativity you shall see, or it shall see you.
Who knows? Anything is possible here. Mine mind is that of an artist, or maybe that of a crazed lunatic. Who knows in this day of age? Let's see what you think.
In here you will see many-a-thing to awe your eyes, send chills down your spine, and just shock you from its brilliant insanity.
Before us is The Faceless Man, who is the harbinger of emotions chaotic and destructive in mine life. As we move on, we see an Angel, wings black as night, and countless amounts of them there are. With skin as fair as a newly fallen snow, her eyes bright as a full moon, flowing hair like a river in a springs cool eve. You see, She is in power of compassion to the fallen, and sympathy for the weak.
An old man stands before us, of Far Asian descent, wrinkled face, tired eyes, yet we see a warm smile on his face. We see him with a long tended silver white beard. For this old man is the logic and wisdom of mine life.
Next, we see a young man. No more then twenty in age, hammer in hand, shaped like the mighty mystical hammer Mjolner. He hits a great wall, never ending. He embodies the determination of myself, and my stubbornness.
Ah, here is a wonderfully chaotic sight. Two elemental beings, one of fire, the other of ice, doing battle with one another, none of them faltering one bit. For they are the internal struggle within myself. Ongoing, and never ending.
As we walk down a great hall, we see a sealed door. Shut tight, and engraved with markings that of unknown origin, you see, in that door, is where my demon is sealed. Only let loose when needed be, he is my hate and my anger.
We move towards another door, we hear music on the other end, that of an orchestra. We walk in to see but one being. A being with eight arms and three faces, each pair has a different activity; we see one conducting to an unseen symphony, the other painting an indescribable master-piece on a canvas of gargantuan proportions, the last molding a elegant female shape out of clay. It is the being that has given me the inspiration and the artistic talent that has allowed me to express my self so well. He is my creativity if you will.
And as we move down the hallways, you see many things. Both awe striking and foul. But we stop at one last door. A very plain door it is, but inside it is something quite peculiar. A boy, nothing more, nothing less. He holds a mirror. Sitting in a chair, and smiling to himself. What you ask is he doing all on his lonesome? Go ask him. He doesnt bite. Well not for a while now. Not brave enough are you? That was a very wise choice, if you ask me,. For you see, he holds an item that is quite strange indeed, for this child, is my inner child, if you will. And he holds with him a mirror that shows the past, my past to be exact. A thing that holds the secrets of many a person, and would surely destroy them. He is my Guardian, and the person I turn to consult all of my problems, for you know that a childs judgment is unclouded and pure, and can tell the righteous from the evil. And with him are all my personal memories, which are dearer to me then life itself.
And now we come to the end of our tour. You dont look to shaken up, and look as sane as I am now.
So for now.
I bid you Farwell, So Long, and Good Bye.