Madness is a gradual process… It begins to close around you like oncoming darkness… Like the sun setting over the horizon… Even though you watch it closely… you never can quite grasp the tipping point that it disappears over the horizon.

THIS is madness…

This is dipping from the plane of sanity into a realm not many dare to tread.

Where art overtakes life and life overtakes the mind… Where your actions and thoughts meld as one and no longer do the boundaries and walls of civility and decency confine you to rules that society has put in place… Useless, meaningless, empty rules…

You think madness is abnormal? Everyone is mad in their own way… Everyone has that one little nagging voice in the back of their skull. "She shouldn't be so snobby… maybe someone should put her in her place." Or "He really shouldn't have been so rude… perhaps a swift knife in the back would set him right." Everyone hears those thoughts… it's just the 'mad' ones choose to listen…

I wasn't always mad… no one ever starts out insane. No… I was made this way…

My sun began to set when my mother gave me away. I was an illegitimate child and my mother a common whore. She dropped me off at the orphanage and there I would stay for six grueling, boring, troublesome years. I could see the madness closing in around me on the other girls who had been there longer… Older girls with no hope for a family who had simply given up and succumbed to the darkness of insanity. They would bully and torture us; tell us there was no more hope… no families wanted ragged little girls… ugly little girls… However, I was one of the few lucky ones to find a family… At least temporarily.

My first family adopted me when I was only six years of age… They were a nice lot… Two little girls and a loving couple. However, the little girls were certain to let me know I didn't belong. I was the outsider… I was the orphan. They would constantly pick on me… Tell me I was ugly, worthless, disgusting… Horrible things… This was the continuation of my sunset; my descent into madness. I began to believe them. I would spend hours in front of a mirror, staring at myself… wondering what was wrong with me… It was then that I discovered the answer to all of my problems. Makeup! So many colors and coats of artificial beauty! I could cover my face in an emotion or thought that I saw fit! No more would I have to fake a smile to please the neighbors when they came over for dinner. No! I could simply paint myself pretty… I could simply create my own perfection. The night of my revelation I snuck into my mother's room and stole all of her beautiful colors and powders… I laid them down in the darkness, afraid to turn on a lamp for fear of waking the others. In pitch-black I painted my face, the sheer feeling of the coat of powerders and oils making me feel worth something… I was beautiful! No longer was I a disgusting girl… the abandoned spawn of a common whore. No! I was a princess to be adored and loved! It was only when my sisters discovered me that I saw what I had done. When the light struck my face my sisters gasped in horror, screaming and running to their mother. I looked in the mirror to see the masterpiece I had created… Smear of reds and purples and blues scattered all over my flesh. This was me… so colorful… so cheerful… I was beautiful…

Sadly, my mother did not see it this way. These powders I had used were rather expensive, and she did not approve of my "disuse" of them one bit. I was sent to live with her brother and his three sons.

When I arrived I was told to keep my head down and mouth shut. This was no place for a lady to speak her mind. For a few years I abided by these rules, staying in my quarters as much as I could so as not to get in trouble. However, as the years went on I grew and my adoptive brothers did as well. One found my fancy and would attempt to woo me at every turn. I found him repulsive, and refused to acknowledge his attempts. Rejected and frustrated, he turned to his father whom promised my hand to him by force. Terrified by this, I decided I would run… And run I did…

I escaped in the dead of night, stealing away the only thing I held dear; my powders and oils. I ran as far and fast as I could before stumbling on a small town… The town of Haven. It was here that the last of my sanity left me…

I made a home for myself in the small town helping the local beauty shop with simple errands and the such in exchange for room and board. I found myself under the care and tutorage of a sweet old lady named Martha. Martha was a great mentor, and did her best to support my rather… unusual ideas of beauty while still maintaining the conventions most others thought appropriate. I was happy with my life… until it all came crashing down around me… as all inevitably does.

A fire… Some called it foul play by a local gang… But I call it God's hand. Her beauty shop and her apartment above it went up in flames while I was off fetching groceries. When I returned the place was ablaze… Red and orange tongues licked the endless stream of smoke as I watched the only thing I held dear being consumed by flame. I rushed past the crowd gathered outside and into the building, climbing the steps to try and rescue my dear tutor. It was too late… She lay dead, sound and smiling on the bed… She was still smiling… I remember that kind and gentle smile; she always wore it when talking to me… and even in death it was etched across her face… I don't remember much of the next few hours… That was the true twilight of my madness… The true tipping point from the very brink of civility to the depths of madness.

It was in those few hours that the flames died down and I remained with my tutor; flesh singed by the heat and lungs clouded by the smoke. Why I did not die… I don't know… But in those hours I transformed my beloved tutor. Her flesh charred and black from the flames was repainted a porcelain white… her cracked and bled lips were colored a crimson red. Her empty eyes were replaced with lovely shades of blue and purple… I took this lifeless corpse that was Martha and revived her through the very tools of her trade… The powders and oils that she held so dear. This was my calling… Transforming the world around me as I saw fit; changing people simply by placing powder and oil over their faces. The world could be so happy and cheerful if everyone had painted smiles…

When they found me I was nearly dead… Barely breathing and flesh bright red with burns they took me from the ruined house and to the emergency ward. There I recovered and was immediately placed in the first of many institutions I would be put in…

That is my descent into madness… My sunset and my twilight. The gradual fall into darkness… yet… I view it as an ascension to enlightenment. An artist to paint the people around me as I saw fit… To change the world as I knew it should be…