Curiosity is a weird, itchy thing. You’re walking down a sterile hospital hallway or a dusty museum corridor and you see it. A heavy oak door. Maybe it has a small, wired-glass window, or perhaps just a tarnished brass keypad. There is no sign. Or worse, there’s a sign that says "Staff Only." Suddenly, your brain short-circuits. The boring hallway disappears. All you can think is: i want to go in there.
It’s not just you. This isn’t some personal quirk or a sign that you’re secretly a cat in a human suit. This is a deeply embedded psychological phenomenon known as "forbidden fruit effect," but in a spatial sense. Humans are biologically wired to explore. When a boundary is placed in front of us, that boundary becomes a focal point. It’s the difference between a wide-open field and a locked box in the middle of that field. Which one are you going to stare at? Exactly.
The Psychology of the Closed Door
Why does the phrase i want to go in there loop in our heads the moment we see a "Do Not Enter" sign? Psychologists often point to Reactance Theory. This was developed by Jack Brehm in 1966. Basically, when people feel their freedom to behave or explore is being threatened—like by a locked door—they get a surge of motivation to perform that restricted behavior. We want our autonomy back.
But it’s deeper than just being rebellious. There’s an information gap. In 1994, George Loewenstein proposed the Information Gap Theory of Curiosity. He argued that curiosity happens when we notice a gap between what we know and what we want to know. A closed door is a physical manifestation of a knowledge gap. What’s behind it? A messy breakroom? A top-secret server rack? A portal to 1984? Your brain hates the vacuum of the unknown. It tries to fill that gap with imagination, which is almost always more interesting than the reality of a janitor’s closet.
Urban explorers (Urbex) have turned this specific impulse into a lifestyle. They risk legal trouble and tetanus just to step into abandoned power plants or forgotten subway tunnels. They aren't looking for treasure, usually. They’re looking for the feeling of being somewhere they aren’t "supposed" to be. It’s a rush of dopamine.
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How Modern Architecture Plays With Our Desires
Architects actually use this. They call it "mystery" or "enticement." In landscape design, the concept of Prospect and Refuge, popularized by Jay Appleton, suggests we love spaces where we can see without being seen. But there’s a third element: the "hidden" view.
Think about a winding path in a Japanese garden. You can’t see the end of the path. It curves behind a stone lantern or a thicket of bamboo. This creates a "longing" to see what’s around the corner. Retailers do this too. Ever notice how high-end boutiques often have a back room or a VIP section that is partially obscured by a curtain? They want you to think, "i want to go in there," because it increases the perceived value of whatever is inside.
If you could see the whole store at once, you’d be bored in five minutes. By hiding things, they keep your brain engaged. It’s a manipulation of your natural predatory-explorer instincts. We are hunters of information.
The Viral Fascination With Liminal Spaces
If you’ve spent any time on TikTok or Reddit lately, you’ve seen "Liminal Spaces." These are photos of empty malls at night, flickering hallways in old office buildings, or indoor pools with weird lighting. They feel familiar but "off."
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The comments are always the same: "I feel like I’ve been here in a dream" or "i want to go in there but I’m terrified." This is the intersection of nostalgia and the "Uncanny Valley." We are drawn to these spaces because they represent a transition. A hallway isn’t a destination; it’s a way to get somewhere else. When we see a hallway that leads nowhere, or a door in the middle of a forest, it triggers a "system error" in our spatial reasoning.
Why Some Places Are Truly Irresistible
- Abandoned Theme Parks: The contrast between former joy and current decay is a magnet for the human psyche.
- Utility Tunnels: The "veins" of a city. There is something primal about wanting to see the inner workings of a giant structure.
- The "Green Room": Even in a local theater, the backstage area feels like a different dimension.
- Hotel Kitchens: Crossing the threshold from the white-tablecloth dining room into the chaotic, stainless-steel world of the kitchen feels like a heist.
The Risk and the Reality Check
We have to talk about the "trespassing" part of the equation. Social media has made the i want to go in there impulse dangerous. People are now climbing active construction cranes or entering unstable ruins for "the 'gram."
Real-world experts like urban explorer and photographer Bradley Garrett have written extensively about the "place hacking" subculture. In his book Explore Everything, he talks about how these explorations are a way to reclaim the city from private ownership. But there's a limit. Asbestos is real. Weak floorboards are real. Security guards with nothing better to do are very real.
There is a psychological letdown that happens, too. This is the "Paris Syndrome" of exploration. You spend months wondering what is behind the heavy steel door in the basement of your apartment building. You finally find it unlocked. You slip inside. It’s a water heater. Just a water heater. The mystery was the value, not the room.
Harnessing the Urge Without Getting Arrested
So, you’re standing in front of a restricted area and the voice in your head is screaming. What do you do? Honestly, most of the time, you can just ask.
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The "Power of the Clip-Board" is a well-known social engineering trick. If you look like you belong, or if you simply ask a staff member with genuine curiosity, "Hey, what’s through that door? It looks fascinating," they’ll often just show you. Humans love to share their "secret" knowledge.
If you’re an architect or a business owner, you can use this. Create "layered" spaces. Don’t show everything at once. Use frosted glass. Use "L" shaped entrances. Give people a reason to feel like they are discovering your space rather than just occupying it.
Actionable Steps for the Naturally Curious
- Practice Observation over Intrusion: Instead of breaking in, look for the clues of what’s inside. Steam pipes, noise frequencies, and the types of people entering can tell you a lot.
- Join an "Open House" Event: Many cities have "Open House" weekends where historical buildings, pump stations, and private clubs open their doors to the public. This is the legal way to scratch the itch.
- Use Google Earth and Blueprints: If you’re obsessed with a specific building, public records are your friend. You can often find floor plans in fire safety filings or historical archives.
- Embrace the Mystery: Accept that the mental image of what’s behind the door is likely 100% cooler than the actual dust bunnies and filing cabinets inside. Sometimes, not knowing is the best part of the experience.
The impulse to say i want to go in there is a sign of a healthy, active brain. It means you haven't lost your sense of wonder. Just remember that the world is full of "front stages" and "back stages," and while the back stage is tempting, it’s the mystery that keeps the performance interesting. Next time you see a restricted door, take a breath. Imagine the most incredible thing possible. Then, walk away and let the mystery stay intact. It’s usually more fun that way.
To satisfy this urge safely, start by researching the history of "Dead Malls" or "Ghost Stations" in your local area. Many cities have sanctioned tours of underground ruins that provide the rush of exploration without the legal risk. Alternatively, look into the concept of "Third Places" to understand why we feel so strongly about the environments we occupy and why some feel more welcoming—or more exclusive—than others.