a. An intricate structure of interconnecting passages through which it is difficult to find one’s way; a maze.
b. Labyrinth Greek Mythology The maze in which the Minotaur was confined.
2. Something highly intricate or convoluted in character, composition, or construction: a labyrinth of rules and regulations.
3. A movie that has been running in the background of my brain since childhood, helping to falsely shape my perception of love.
So let’s start from the beginning shall we?
Don’t worry not the David Copperfield beginning. No, the beginning of this particular passage in the maze. This one goes way back. Only now I can’t quite recall how it started. I know it has to do with terror. Real terror. Something very few will ever truly experience. The kind that defines you in your youth, or redefines you in later life. I know it has to do with shame. Pride. Love. Or what I thought love was. That was just the foundation. What came later to truly shape this was a movie. Labyrinth.
So magical. David Bowie. Muppets. A King. One that could do anything in tight pants. The masquerade. It made perfect sense as a child.
Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave.
Why doesn’t she just do what she’s told? I always thought as I watched it. I learned early to listen. It seemed all too simple. He was lonely. He was creating love. He could give her everything. All she had to do was listen.
Love is a labyrinth. One passage leads to another. Doors open and shut when you turn your back. The walls move. Often we find ourselves in a dizzying endless cycle. One foot in front of the other we tell ourselves. It has to end at some point. This has to lead somewhere.
What if it doesn’t? What if we’re running in circles and that’s all it will ever be? What if we never make it out of this alive with our sense of self and humanity intact?
Dizzy. Out of breath. That’s me.
Everything is the same. No matter where I turn. No matter how fast or slow I run. Out of options. Out of faith. Out of time.
This passage never ends. These days it seems to grow. It’s become infinite. It has shaped how I relate to the world, simply because I can’t. The hedges are too high. It’s too dark to see anything else. I’ve been running the walls of this passage for so long, it has defined everything I am. It has fed the terror. My inability to free myself has fed the shame. Pride has provided the miracle grow to keep the hedges tall and strong, and me hedging.
Does listening mean obeying to you?
she asked. That can be part of it. Depends on the circumstances. I replied.
Of course listening and obeying are the same I thought. You listen to follow instructions. You listen to know what others want from you. What they expect. What you’re supposed to give them. If you’re smart you’ll ask for little in return and simply do as you’re told.
The hamster started running so fast he lost control and the wheel detached itself from it’s frame and together, both the creature and it’s wheel took off. Gone. Dizzy. Out of breath.
I stayed up most the night. It followed me throughout the day. I have existed in a way that makes no sense to anyone. I have asked for very little. Or so I thought. Over the years it’s literally become a case of Jareth Syndrome.
It’s worked. Or so I thought. As sensible as that has sounded, turns out love and fear don’t belong in the same sentence to compliment each other. Blind obeying and listening seem the same to the naked eye and untrained ear. In reality they are simply the ingredients for the perfect disaster. To top it off, apparently no one wants a slave except for Mr. Garrison.
That’s the thing though. I have run this passage for so long, I don’t understand any other way to exist. This is it. Like the Minotaur, I’m trapped.