The Labyrinth.

He sat in a corner, shielding himself from the outside, rocking back and forth, consumed in his fear. He knew he had to let go, but he was terrified, fear was the only thing he knew, to let go, to leap into the unknown was unthinkable, impassable. He had forgotten what made him fear, what had lead him to this dark corner. All he was sure of was that fear drove him; he did not no any other. In a way fear was his comfort, you could rely on fear to scare you. Deep down, in his sub-conscious he knew there was nothing to fear. But fear was his excuse to not go outside, to not help people. To live in a labyrinth. He was safe there. There was no escape there. He could build his own world and pretend to be happy there. He heard a voice, gentle, kind. It whispered, “You cannot live on fear, fear cannot love you, lead you. You need to let go and live.”

There is nothing more frightening then the terror of there being nothing to fear.