The mind a maze, a labyrinth of choices and bullies and judgement. What is freedom, do we even remember? To sit on a bench downtown, I am free, yes. There are no hunters, no agents, no apparent bad guys. But fear is vivid. As though I know some secret or truth about the inherent danger of being alive, as though this knowledge was given to me and it consumed me to a point that everything I was ceased to exist. I had to regenerate, and in regenerating I forgot this truth, the very thing that ate me alive. This truth is still true, but whatever it is, I do not remember. The memory of being eaten alive by this persists, and though invisible, follows me wherever I go.
That’s right, it’s not fear that follows me, it’s memory. Is the power of memory greater than fear? Or are they the same? And is it necessary to identify what haunts you in order to exorcise it? Maybe it is enough to know it is there, and move around. Do not focus on the obstacle, focus on where you want to go. Freedom is what you do, the shackles are whatever you give power to.