I've always avoided calling friends over to my parents' house because I feared that finding out what

My house looks like would cause them to run away from me.
Little did I know I'm exactly my parents' house, my parents' daughter.... Chaos. A dysfunctional mess, hoarding stacks of unnecessary things - trauma, memories, and feelings.... That have distorted the entire space...of my brain. I reflect exactly what my parents' house is. An empty, broken mess, unkempt, unready, a concrete wilderness, with brittle and broken flooring that makes a whole lot of noise when stepped on even politely. And a crumbling foundation that has separated from the structure over it due to years of seepage, after not being tended to.