Finding Nemo

He had been swimming for hours and still he was unable to stop. He had ventured too far away from his home, from the safe waters and he felt a chilling fear stir inside him, but he did not stop. There was another force driving him forward and giving him strength. A force so compelling that he could not give in to his fear, he could not let it take charge of him. Pushing it aside he continued moving, his tired little fins paddling away as fast as they could. He was determined to find his son and no matter how far and how dangerous the ocean waters were, he would keep on going.

Somewhere deep inside him, another fear began to surface, something different than the fear of the unknown and yet comfortably familiar. He felt a sense of panic run through him and his movements became frantic and strained. Will he ever find him? Or was he lost forever? And the guilt began to emerge, the dark face of guilt rising up in front of him in anger and in ridicule. He whimpered and prayed before it and he could feel himself losing hope, losing himself to its crippling hand. There was no signs that his search would be fruitful, but still he could not leave his hope behind. No, it was not hope. It was much stronger, a knowledge that he would find his son and bring him home and it was this knowledge that gave him strength, the strength he needed to calm his nerves and push down the panic and from this strength he attacked the guilty. He threw it down and cast it aside. The battle was gruesome but he triumphed in the end. Leaving behind his guilt and his fear, he sped on in search of his son