Soon I didnt just add to the house, I began to live in the house. With every piece of furniture, every perfectly painted doorknob, every sculpted shingle, I was unknowingly putting more and more of me in that house. It became an addiction. I stopped taking care of myself, my friends were worried, my girlfriend- first supportive of my new hobby, had now left me. Thats ok, I told myself. I have the doll house. I will always have the doll house. No one can take that away from me. It wasnt until I woke up one morning that I realized what was happening. I was lying in the same bed that I had so meticulously sculpted. I tried to get up but couldnt, I just laid there, smiling. I no longer had the doll house, the doll house had me.