Eulogy of Isaiah Kane

Isaiah and I met back in 2016 through our shared major in the Philosophy department. After constant changes in focus, we both managed to locate an obsession within the philosophy of religion.

Isaiah and I would spend hours, night after night, ruminating on all of the most common dilemmas. While the problem of evil got my attention for a short period of time, Isaiah was absolutely obsessed with the question of Free Will. It was a concept I had confronted once or twice in life, but never really stabbed my knives into.

What we had discovered implicated a horrifying truth; Radicality. Every single tangible object, animate or not, is a radically open system. To exist is to affect and be affected; any and all choices are the choice of the whole, for the individual is dead.

For years, Isaiah was trapped in a maze of illusory freedom that appeared to hold no exit; delusions fueled by fear of affect. He began to spiral out of control, locking himself in our apartment, barricading himself in his room.

He and I foolishly thought that the barricades could stop any transference of affect, but its mere existence completely changed everything. I began to feel a connection forming in my mind, as if something was reaching out to shake my hand. It came with an angelic warmth that convinced me to reach out.

Only for the skin on my hand to begin boiling and bursting in every direction, a heavenly descent into the bowels of Lucifer’s adopted child Kevin. It lasted for what must’ve been 14 minutes until the delusion faded and a new fear rests in its wake.

I had no fear of affect; rather, I have a fear of inevitability. The Maze must have more exits than just that of insanity. The fates are not to be bargained with, but a life devoid of affect is not a life at all.

Suffering would’ve been a much better demon to find, at least growth rises from its ashes. Suffering humbles the mind, seeding in it a desire for growth. Fear brings with it nothing but anger. Delusions continuously breaking the mind until it snaps and your fate is sealed.

That will not be mine though, I will attack the demon head on. I will erase it from the universe, and with it any and all effects it had. So, I marched forward towards the creator of my madness. I walked into his room, knife in hand, and stabbed him repeatedly; 14 times to be exact. But the demon still whispered into our ears, unaffected by blade.

I rushed to the coffee table in the back right corner of the room and proceeded to remove my .45 caliber revolver. I could not see my spiritual enemy, for only his warmth remain in the room. Pacing back and forth could only provide comfort until the moment my pores began to erupt lava down my forehead. I chose to sit in wait for my demon, hoping the funny taste in my mouth fades away.



Creative writer working to hone his craft, no longer at the expense of a mental state.

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Aaren Herron

Creative writer working to hone his craft, no longer at the expense of a mental state.