The Chronic Hopeless Floor

CHF.

It's the Chronic Hopeless Floor.

Which was the nickname for a specific floor in a specific psychiatric unit.

But also a name I decided to use for those times when everything seems... well, hopeless and unrepairable by any means. Except maybe the means of endlessly rereading HP books. Which might not always work.

So I'm trying to play with this idea that when you feel like hope is gone, it doesn't mean that it really is gone. It doesn't mean that Everything Absolutely Sucks. It means that right now you're on the Chronic Hopeless Floor.

What are the characteristics of the CHF?

• Everything Seems As If It Absolutely Sucks. Which doesn't mean that it Absolutely Sucks. It's just that this floor has a superpower. It makes stuff seem like something which it actually isn't. And it likes to use it in an Evil way.
• For instance, it seems like there's no way out. But actually, the floor is surrounded by an Illusion Charm which conceals all the ways out. Those ways are absolutely invisible. Existing, but invisible. So invisible you can't even imagine them being visible. Not while you're on this floor, anyway.
• Time passes too slow. Whatever counts as slow for you, here it's even slower.
• This is a floor of unhappiness. Because the moment you enter it, happiness is forgotten. It becomes as invisible as the way out (together with Hope, Faith and Dreams).

What should you also know about CHF?

• This floor creates an illusion of stopping time. You can't make any conclusions here about what will happen when. Which makes you believe that you'll stay on this floor forever. But this is not a quality of the universe. It's just a quality of this floor.
• It's horrible to be on the CHF. Really. It drains hope and happiness out of you like a Dementor. But it's just this one floor. There Are Other Floors.
• Being on this floor does not prevent you from getting to other floors. And on the other floors, noone cares that you've been here. Many of them have been here themselves. Or will be eventually.
• The CHF is designed like an endless universe, impossible to escape from. But it's really just a Floor.
• You can be sad and lost and angry and broken here and Noone Will Care. Which might suck. But it might also be useful, because you can be those things as long as you want to.
• And when you get used to it, you might even come here on purpose, to feel this stuff when you think that you need to feel it, and then return to other floors, when you feel like you're ready.
• Because you CAN exit this floor. You just can't really see the exit. But wander on, and eventually you'll stumble out of it.
• You are meant to be chronically hopeless on the CHF. That's the purpose of this floor. So if that's how you're feeling, congratulations. You're doing it right.
• But you're also meant to visit all of the floors. Not just this one.
• And that's why, if right now you're on the CHF, even if it hurts so bad and tears you into pieces, you can still survive it. Because other floors also wait for you. They're not in a hurry. They know that you'll arrive. Eventually. As soon as you'll stumble out of this one, you'll probably be rolling into one of them.

What does the CHF want?

• Accepting of its existence. It doesn't like you saying that it's NOT THERE. It feels nicer when you say something along the lines of, it's there, but I'm not on it right now.
• To feel important. It's part of the building, after all.
• To be a part of your path. Some passages to the other floors (invisible until you enter them, of course, but passable) exist on the CHF only. It wants to guide you through them. There's no other way.

What can you say to the CHF?

I'm here.

I don't like being here. I might even really hate it. I feel as if I'll be here forever, and as if nothing can change it. I KNOW that nothing can change it.

But I also know, that me knowing this, is a part of your Super Floor Qualities.

I'm here. I'm talking about the fact that I'm here right now, even if I absolutely hate it.

I can't see the exits. I can't even imagine that there are exits. But I know that you want me to stay here because you think that I can eventually pass through them.

Time is crawling, and it's hard to be as patient as you want me to be.

But I accept you. I accept your existence in the building. And if I'm not accepting you, I'm accepting the fact that I can't accept you right now. Or I'm trying to accept it.

To be short, there's something that I'm trying to accept.

I'll probably have to stay here for as long as you think that I must, and I don't like it. But I'll try to trust you to guide me towards my next floor.

I can't even believe all of this all of the time.

But there might exist things that are true and that I can't see right now. 

So for the sake of those things, I'll be wandering around here.

Until we part.

Love them metaphors?

Yeah.