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Saturday, August 14, 2010

I killed him.




Today William died. 

I killed him. 

Don't freak out oh fearless reader, just keep reading.

His parents found him dead in his room.  They called the ambulance, but alas, his last breath had left the very room before he had been found.  A funeral was held and all his family and friends were there.  They saw his deathly pale skin, and shook their head at the sorry sight.

But one thing was wrong.  


You see, William didn't have friends.  He never had a mother, nor a father.  He never had any dear sisters. He never had dreams.  He never thought a single thought nor imagined any dream.  He never took any risks.  He never loved and never hated.  He didn't have a mind.  He didn't have arms or legs, or a mouth to talk with.  He didn't have any lungs to breathe with, and he certainly didn't have any senses to connect it all.  William was dead.  That's it.  And he was perfect.

You see, now that he was dead--there was nothing wrong with him. He was not flawed.  He never cried.  He never hated anyone.  He never destroyed anything or hurt anyone's feelings.  He never broke down.  He never felt sad, depressed, angry, or hopeless.  He was dead.  He was perfect.

But now, look at me. My face isn't quite so proportional, and there is dry blood on my hands.  Don't you think something is a little odd here?  Aren't I just simply flawed?  Isn't something wrong with me?  I've hurt people I've loved.  I've made so many fucking mistakes it could fill oceans, I've felt like the most worthless piece of shit on this planet, I've felt so sad I could cry my eyes out and then some more, I've felt so angry I could burn down something beautiful and innocent, I've felt so guilty that I'd think that I couldn't possibly live with myself.

But death?  Death is not an escape.  Death is.  Death has no suffering.  Death is not even nothing.  Death is.

Life is suffering.  Life is our pain.  Life is the reason we feel like miserable pieces of run down shit---so much that we think we could just lie down and stop breathing.   But suffering is our lives.  Without this suffering how can we ever live?  How could I have possibly felt like a piece of shit if I didn't feel anything higher previously?  How could I smile if I never cried?  How could I relax if I never felt stressed, or annoyed, or angry?  How could I forgive if I never held a grudge?  How could I be happy without suffering?


Human beings love to suffer.  It's a master plan.  It is God himself.  Suffering is the necessary balance to our lives--without it, we would have nothing.  NOTHING.

So William might think that this is untrue.  "Total bullshit," he says.  People die because they suffer, he says.  He told me so.  He was convinced that those who committed suicide suffered so much that they killed themselves. 

Wrong, dear boy.  They ceased their suffering.  To stop suffering, is to stop living.  


To stop suffering, is to die.  


Now in death, they no longer feel pain.  They no longer possess anything.  They never existed.  Their cause for death was erased as soon as death came.  Meaning, the very reason they wanted to die was rendered void as soon as they died.  They have successfully stopped the suffering.  Congratulations William; you are now perfect. 


But look at life.  There are billions of mistakes that can be made.  There are an infinite amount of possibilities.  Life is everything.  Everything is connected.  Everything is connected because everything balances one another.  When you cry your eyes out so much, that you can literally cry no more--you feel better.  You never feel worse after a good cry.  Your sorrow is satisfied and overturned by balance.  Crying is an effect to relief, not a cause to more pain.   When we're angry and we destroy something--we feel better.  When we kick and scream and bring the fucking house down, we feel better.  It is when you stifle the balance, that you stifle the suffering--and thus life.  The result is death.  Suffering is made complete by our joys in life.  If you cannot suffer, you will die.  Those who kill themselves cannot suffer.  They do not destroy, they do not cry those needed tears, they do not let their emotions run their course.  (e)motions are always in motion.  If you stop them, you are in dangerous waters with the balance of life.  The result is a drastic, thoughtless action.  Your life ends.

Think about middle America.  Our wonderful cures for these terrible diseases, our healthy society, our do-good schools, our happy country.  People stop suffering.  People start killing themselves when they do not know how to suffer.  

Now think about middle India, in the slums.  Disease plagues the people.  The food is terrible.  The clothes are dirty.  How many do you think rush up to their rooms to kill themselves?  I can assure you, not very many.  It is because they suffer.

So William does not believe this.  "How can you say we must go through such terrible things?  There are plenty of people who live very good lives with little tragedy, and seem to be going just fine."

Well then, I would say.  You need only look in the mirror.  Aren't you living in a suburban upper middle class home with a nice family, house, and environment?  Don't you have a job, clothes to wear, and good food to eat?  Yet you still suffer.  You must.

So, he says, you're saying that everyone is in pain right now?  Otherwise they can't live correctly?

In some way or another, of course everyone has felt pain.  Pain can be emotional, psychological, physical, but it is because of this pain that they are the way they are now.  Had this pain not existed, they would not be people.  They would be dead.

Think of one person who has never suffered in his or her life. 

William thought.  And he could not.

After his accusations began to dwindle I proceeded to the more controversial truth.  Why do you think you have had bloody noses all the time?  During work, during dances, during worse times?  They are a balance to your joys.  Everything is related.  In fact, you are alive because your sister is dead.  To this, he refused to continue.  But I persisted.  You are alive because you have felt pain in life.  You are truly alive because you have experienced a terrible death.  You are grateful because you have lost.  The saying goes "bad things happen to good people."  Bad things happen to all people.

  Everyone must experience a counter balance to their joys. 

A star football player who breaks his leg.  A wealthy family who is robbed.  A smart Joe who is beaten.  A wonderful singer who gets into a car accident.  These are all generalized large things of course but it is everything, you see.  A paper cut, lost footing, stubbing your toe, broken guitar strings, falling off the bed, a cavity, being left out of a party, having a lousy waitress, feeling alone, losing your car keys, anything you find as a misfortune is a balance to all of your fortunes.  The better you have it, the more suffering you will have to endure.

But this is life's test.  This is the test to see whether human beings can look into their hearts and accept the good as well as the bad.  Once you truly realize that the world doesn't hate you, and that the bad things that happen to you are there for a reason, you can smile as you confront them, knowing that they are there to counter balance your life.  This is where one can, with an open mind, choose happiness over sadness.  This is why human beings love to suffer.  It is counter intuitive--yes, but deep down, you know that you love the feeling of letting your emotions go.  You feel wonderful when you cry--your emotions are finally unplugged and streams of feelings are allowed to flow free once again.  Of course, this does not mean one should burn down a building when he is feeling angry--there are constructive ways to channel the energy of emotions into constructive means.  Art is an escape.  Music.  Those wonderful sorrowful songs were the escape of the artist.  Ideas.  Stories.  Books.  Anything by the nature of Art is used to make the suffering more bearable.  That is what makes Art so beautiful to us.

By this time William seemed uneasy, but I knew, he knew.

We burned his suicide note. 


We are all born into this world crying for a reason.  We are born suffering. 

2 comments:

  1. Wooow...you never fail to screw with my head haha but this is fabulous Will...are you sure you aren't some sort of philosopher in disguise?

    ReplyDelete