“Killing the blah” – with remarks about growth

A sort-of-a-story by Mike Michelsen

——

The West Lehi Weekly

Sunday, October 17, 2010

WEST LEHI RESIDENT COMMITS SUICIDE AND LEAVES MYSTERIOUS “SUICIDE LETTER”

John Fitsroy, editor – The remains of a West Lehi resident were found in his apartment saturday, October 16, by a neighbor.  Investigators state that the 38 year old man, identified as Jedediah Monroe, was found hanging by the neck in his bathroom.  All evidence points to an apparent suicide.  Neighbors say that Jedediah Monroe was quiet, reserved, and never created problems.  One neighbor, Nancy James, states: “He was a quiet person who hardly said a word”.  Similar remarks were said by other neighbors.  None of the neighbors questioned saw anything in his behaviour hinting to any personal problems he may of had.  “He was a delightful friendly young man who would always help me in with the groceries,” remarks his next door neighbor Sherry Jorgensen.  Shock, and disbelief, seemed to be the typical reactions by all who knew him.  Frederick Holden, Sheriff of West Lehi, states “we are currently searching for next-of-kin but have, so far, found none”.  He requests that if anyone knows a relative of Jedediah they should call the West Lehi police department. 

Burial services are planned Friday, October 22, at Millard’s Memorial Gardens.  Viewing starting time is 1 PM.  Burial will follow.

The investigators are particularly perplexed by a number of hand written pages found on the bathroom counter, apparently written by the deceased before his death.  “It appears to be some sort of a suicide letter,” states Sheriff Holden, “but I’ve never seen anything like this before”.  Due to its unusual nature, and possibly in helping with locating next-of-kin as well as the meaning of the letter, Sheriff Holden has asked us to add it below in its entirety.

Killing the blah

Blah blah blah . . . and the world was created . . . and blah blah blah til it dies.

God help me!

Deliver me from the endless crusade of blah.  It bares down upon me, squashing my mind like a pumpkin under someones foot.

The secret of the world . . . it’s no mystery, no, not at all.  It is the endless blahness.

God help me!

Is there no escape!  Is there no relief!  It’s everywhere. 

Oh, the blah seemed to of seeped into my soul, painfully and surely, like a poison it hit deep, squashing my ego.  Huh!  What ego?  How can an ego . . . or self for that matter . . . grow with the endless blahness?  How can a person live?!

The painful despair that has become my life . . . blah, blah, blah!  Just to say it . . .  oh, how does one endure?

That pestering blah, ever haunting me, waking me at night, fidgeting with my mind . . . on and on and on.  Endless blah, eternal, everlasting, non escaping.

God help me!

The repetition of the same, repetition endlessly, constant constancy endless and everlasting.  Oh, my mind.  It has taken enough.

And the endless dribble of nonsensical crap battering me all the time . . . how can I win?  It’s everywhere.  Nonsense here, nonsense here.  Where does anything make sense?  When will something make sense?

I’ve lost hold.  I cannot grasp it anymore.  I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be grasping for anymore.  I’m slipping away, slipping into oblivion.

God help me!

I can feel it.  I really do, I feel myself falling, falling down an endless eternal hole, downward, downward.  I can feel it I tell you!

The times without the blahness . . . such bliss . . . but few at that.  Oh, sweetness it is.  My time without blahness.  But long have I sought and long have I tried to find these precious moments – my life’s work.  But, I fear, I have to admit that I have failed.  I cannot find enough time without blahness.  There’s simply too much blah!

Regardless of what I do I keep waking up in the morning of every day.  It’s almost too much.  Oh, how I hate to wake up . . . to what?  The blah of the world.  The endless walls, the same clock, wearing the same clothes, seeing the same scenery.  Oh, just to have a change!  To see something new.  NO!  Better yet . . . to be a new person.  How would it be to be able to see the world with new eyes?  A new person!  That, that is what I want.

I . . . I am always the same.  I’m sick of my sameness.  Same voice, same looks, same emotions, same thoughts.  It’s always the same.  God, deliver me from this!

How many times have I yearned to rip out my thoughts? . . . those monotonous thoughts of mine, repeating over and over again and again.  If I knew where they were located in my brain I would of cut them out with my own hands long ago.  Whether they are good or bad, does it matter?  It’s the same thing over and over again. Same thoughts, same tone.  Endless blah.  Oh what bliss would it be to be without the same thoughts, that ‘great haunting’, the endless ‘haunting of me’. 

Ending my thoughts, I need to end my thoughts, to end my sameness, the blah within me.  I know, I can feel it, there is another me, a greater me, I can feel it.  But its beyond me, out of me.  I can feel it I tell you.  My me, it is nothing, a spec.  It is blahness.  God help me.  Oh, how I want the greater me.  Long have I sought for it, to find it like some great treasure.  Yes, I know, the greatest treasure of all.  It is true.  I know it . . . the greater self. 

But my me, my blah, it traps me.  It won’t let me find my greater self.  It plots against me.  It doesn’t want me to find it.  Oh, but I’ll trick it.  Ha ha, I know how to get the best of it.  It came to me, just the other day in the middle of the night.  While asleep I just opened my eyes for no apparent reason.  I was wide awake.  Then I knew, I knew the answer.  Yes, I knew how to trick it, to trick the blah.  I’ll get the best of it. I’ll get it in the end.

What does one do when one is infected?  What does one do?  I know.  You kill it!  Isn’t the blah an infection?  Isn’t it a disease? 

Kill it!  Kill it!

Oh, such happiness that rings between my ears when I say that.

Kill it!

Suicide?!  That’s the only choice to end it . . . to kill the blah!  It is the ultimate blahness.  What is blahness but a death?  Killing the blah with itself.  Think of it! . . . Killing death with death.

It’s genius!

Finding myself surrounded by blahness I have decided to finish it with suicide, giving it its final ‘dot’.  By making an end to me, I become one with the blah, I receive it into myself, and then . . . it will end!  I will surpass it, go beyond it!

No more blah!

With the absence of the blah, think of it, the greater self can be.  I know it’s there waiting for me. 

It’s waiting! 

But, sometimes, a part of me keeps thinking what madness I have become!  Am I madness?  Does it matter?. . . End the blah!  End it all!  Thats all that matters.  I know these thoughts of doubt and what they are:  the blah trying to trick me.  It wants to keep me alive.  That way it traps me, keeps me in its clutches.  That way, it wins.  Oh, but I will fool it.  I will fool it!

Now I pass into the great blah . . .

God help me!

I feel, somehow . . . happy and free.

——

(At first glance this story seems a dark tale about suicide, hoplessness, and despair.  In actuality, it is a story about growth, and the conflict of growth, put in a dramatic story form.  The ‘suicide’ is nothing but a reference to the dying of our old self so that a new self may be born.  This ‘suicide’ describes a conflict often seen in growth:  the reluctance to let the old self go This reluctance can stall much of our growth . . . and does.  But it describes even a more involved problem:  the inabilitiy to let the old self go.  This, really, is what this story describes.  Jedediah wants the ‘greater self’, the new self, but he cannot let the old self go.  With the persistence of the old self he has begun to feel a ‘death’, a big ‘blah’ in life.  It begins to haunt him.  He then decides to ‘kill’ it by suicide.  In many cases, this is what we must do : kill our old self, for only in killing our old self can a new self be born.  Much of life is dealing with the ‘death’ of our old self, – the ‘blah’.  This story, then, is really about a person desiring to grow but is unable to achieve it.  It’s a story, I think, far more prevalent than we realize.  But, even more than that, I do feel that some suicides are based on this conflict:  the inability to grow into a new self.  Each one of us feels a sense of a ‘greater self’, though we may not be aware of it.  This ‘greater self’ is the self that is about to appear, the new self.  It is perceived as something other than ourselves.  This, in large part, is true, as it is separate from our current self.  I’ve always felt that many suicides are based on this perception, of desiring the new self but being unable to get rid of the current self.  As a result, we are stuck with the current self, as if trapped, unable to free ourselves.  Suicide, then, becomes a way to rid oneself of our current self.  And so, this story may not only be about the inability to grow but also about an explanation of some form of suicides.)

Copyright by Mike Michelsen

This entry was posted in Philosophy, Psychology and psychoanalysis, Short Stories and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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