Venting

My "mansion".

My "mansion" is full of absolute chaos. Every emotion that I experience, I create I room for, close and lock the door, and then through the key in a pit of lava. I keep no spares. The latest room I've made was today. I've recently been dumped, so I created a room full of hate, sadness, and a what the actual fuck feeling and locked that shit up in a room. I melted the key instantly and continued with my life like nothing happened. When my doors chip, things slip out from that room. As soon as this happens, I grab something to fix the door and make it look like nothing was ever wrong. If my family ask if I'm ok or how my day was, I say I'm fine or it was good. If my friends ask me how I'm doing, I tell them the truth. They are what I consider my "true" family. They know what's wrong with me and I them. They're the ones who forged a skeleton key to all of our mansions. I, myself, have a skeleton key. We've all made rooms in the basement for our conversations. We lock them everyday latch the key onto us like our life depends on it. We take care of this room and door daily. If  something is even slightly off, we fix it immediately. The one emotion that is not in a room is anger. He's in charge of all of my other emotions and problems. With my fear, anxiety, sadness, hopelessness, joy, breakup, bad grades, knowledge, love, stress, I'm not good enough, ect, anger is the one to say you can come out in the spotlight now. My skeleton key, for my friends' mansions, are the only keys for my doors.