Stuck in a labyrinth

Would anyone notice if I wasn't here?

It's just that some days I wish I could just stop the world for a couple of hours, just to give myself a break from the relentless toil and worries that infiltrate my brain each day. It has been so long since I last pondered this question and in some ways it worries me, not because I am thinking it but because I am unsure if I am actually thinking it if that makes any sense.
I no longer know how I feel about things, I don't test myself instead I just want to sit, alone in the silence and descend into the dream-world that I have built up, where everything is safe and I am in total control over what happens.

Do you ever wonder if the thoughts you have are actually yours?

It's just that as I write this I don't know where these thoughts are coming from, if they are real or just how I think I should be thinking. I feel trapped within my own mind and its like a labyrinth and I just can't find the way out. I keep walking down the dead ends over and over, trapped within the twilight and unsure which path to take next. The walls are high and beyond them I can hear the voices of others having fun and enjoying themselves, but I walk around unseen, just a ghostly presence who lets itself be known by the sound of sobs that catch in the back of my throat as yet another dead end is reached and another fear looms up out of the dark sending me scurrying back along the twisting paths in desperation. Running to get away from the things that lurk in the dark, waiting patiently for me to walk into their traps so they can capture me, and take over my mind, leaving me looking out at a world which I can no longer take part in. And the longer they reside within me, controlling me, the less fight I have to give, I begin to fade into the darkness and soon I will cease to fully exist. I will be nothing more than an empty shell, all personality lost and all confidence broken, and then the fears will let me back in control, leaving me to collect the fragile pieces of my mind and begin the never ending task of placing them back together. Silently screaming in frustration as the light falters and all that's left is the faint glimmer of hope in which I have to construct the puzzle made of identical pieces, each the same shape and colour with no indication as to which one should be placed first. A task that can never be completed, in which I am always doomed to fail, unless someone should appear and offer to help, seeing the pattern that exists but to which I am blind. Helping me in the task, guiding my hands as they shake with apprehension, giving me the support and comfort I need to complete the task to the point where I can finally find the exit to my personal labyrinth and finally step out into the world that lies beyond.