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    When I think about the mind, it reminds me of an old house, dark and decrepit. The paintwork on the façade is cracked, peeling, scorched by the sun, and battered by the winds of the past. It is uninviting, but somehow draws you in, like a moth to a flame.  You can’t help but walk up the splintered steps to explore the inside.

    The heavy wooden door is slightly ajar. You feel your heart quickening in your chest, the blood pounding in your ears like a beating drum. You struggle to catch your breath; you want to turn away and flee like so many others before you, but you know you must go on.

    The corridor is long, dark, and dusty; a path which hasn’t been walked for a long time. Your footsteps echo as you go forward, dust billows behind you, and cobwebs snatch at your face like ghostly fingers. You see movement ahead, you slow your pace in trepidation, yet you know you must continue.

    Two figures appear in the dark, shadowy and sinister. As you approach, you notice that one figure is cowering low to the floor, hands raised as a shield, to protect itself from the words spouting from the other. The figure doing the talking is tall, and menacing. It has no face, yet words keep coming from the place where its mouth should be. You hear it calling the quivering figure weak; telling it that it is worthless, stupid, and unloved. It spews out nothing but hatred, every vile insult sparks something inside you, and you break into a run determined to protect the whimpering figure on the floor.

    As you get closer, you hear more of the bile; you see clearly the figure on the floor. Realisation washes over you as you see that the frightened figure is yourself. You are naked, vulnerable, and uncomfortable. You hear what is being shouted by the taller figure, and realise it’s every worry, every self-doubting moment you have ever had. You stop, and realise the figure is the part of your brain which feeds all of your self-doubt, your fears, and your anxiety. You stare at the figure, and notice that as you do, it begins to become smaller. The realisation that it is a manifestation of your fears rather than an entity which can cause harm makes it seem less frightening.

    You stand and watch, listening to the figure and realising that although it may say things which are hurtful, you can choose how you react to them. You approach your trembling self, and hold out a hand. It places its hand into yours, and you stand united against the negative thoughts and feelings. Together you watch the figure twisted in its hatred, and choose to let the words wash over you and away. In the same way that no two drops of water are the same in a waterfall, no two thoughts are the same, and they will pass quickly. The figure continued to shrink, and as it did, the house began to fill with light. The corridor widened, and the cobwebs vanished. Warmth spreads throughout the house and you walk back towards the open front door. As you look back, you see yourself sat peacefully in the warm light, and you know you are free; you finally feel at home in your own mind.