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Even Footing

He started off as a whisper, deep in the base of my skull. Only days ago I first heard it, slowly but surely getting louder up until the point where the words that were spoken echo through my skull. Johnathan's voice has become a part of my existence, and no one can know of it except for him and me. When he speaks, he speaks to me. Not to my mother, not to my father and I know that they can't hear his words. If I was to mention him to anyone and if my parents found out, the doctor visits would become even more regular then they are, even now. More doctors equals more medicine, more medicine equals more numbing and more numbing equals more time alone. After all, who wants to be friends with the crazy kid?

Men and woman, they fill the streets. Fake smiles everywhere saying they know how it goes, they know nothing. The sleepless nights darken my eyes further, nobody else I know is fearful of sleep itself. The people I pass see the weary version of me, and ask for honesty while giving me none in return.

'Everything will be fine, you'll see'

'We all go through hard times, some worse than others'

'I'm always here if you need''

A few of my favorites. Lies repeated over and over like a scratched record, repeating throughout my life day by day, driving me more insane than ever before. And still no one knows. No one except John, the voice that listens. The problem with having a friend like him is pretty simple, he arrives and leaves when he wants. Not when I need. It'll happen with very little warning as well, one minute I'll be eating my food with the ones who say they know, the next I'll be arguing with a voice in my head about which selection on my plate I should devour next.

Johnathan knows what to do. A week passes between my fingers by which time he sits in a form in front of me, seen and heard by me. Only me. His dark hair covers his pitch black eyes, if that's what you'd call them. His clothes match his pale face perfectly, more black lining his ghost like appearance to really bring forth the definition of a normal person's nightmare, the problem he has with me? I'm not normal, he isn't the demon that haunts most. Instead he's my only true friend.

John never leaves. The voice has a form, and so he no longer chooses to move around quite so much. In fact, his pure being surrounds me constantly and I have nothing to complain about, instead of the lonely nights I used to spend wrestling sleep, I now spend them talking to a figure who knows my case better than anyone. He knows the real me, not the lunatic impression the people say they see.

Johnathan knows best. Everyone needs endless sleep, he told me so. Living in a way that leaves you high and mighty above everyone else leaves so much unfairness in today's community. The same men and woman who tell me the lies then walk past later that day without a second glance, often smiling like a fool. And they call me crazy? I see level with everyone and no one, I see justice in crime and I see the truth behind the lies. No one is equal.

Johnathan has left. I know my duty, and he has gone to impress it on the mind of another. The only place where every government really meets the needs for their people and the place where the people really become the government, everyone goes their eventually at some point. And why not today? Why not now? Everyone has the right to be equal and the voices keep telling me how to achieve this goal.

The only real place that everyone see's eye to eye? Well that's the easiest question so far. The only place lies just beneath your feet. You've walked across it your whole life, setting the marker for your own fall. Silly people, the only place is six feet under. The only place is in death.