Another Way to Think About it

Another Way to Think About it

The things you think you see. Your frightened by them, at night you think something’s standing next to you but you don’t open your eyes to see the truth. Nothing’s there. If you were crazy, something would be there, but your not. Just a dream, a nightmare. If you were crazy you might think I was there. I wish you could see me, I’m lonely. Not as many crazy people as you think. If there were I’d have more friends, but no.

one man man, Mars, he was in the institute, the institute of mentally challenged. Mars was actually very smart, he was in there because he saw things, like ghosts, which really don’t exist; they’re more like me just faded a little and like to scare people, anyways they put him in there so he wouldn’t bother anyone which was what he was doing. This place is all white just how you’d think it is.

I appeared in his cell, no sound or smell, as fast as a magic trick. Mars looked over from his white, cushiony bed, stood up and calmly almost whispering. “Hello.” YES! I was so glad when he said that, a smile slapped my face, then, he continued, “I remember you.” I have never seen him before in my life.

“Excuse me? You’ve seen me somewhere else? Where?” I asked out of curiosity.

“I saw you at the museum before I was put in here, you were looking at the whale bones exhibit.” The man’s blinding blonde hair shined in the fluorescent light above us.

“That’s a few years back, how do you remember that?”

“I remember looking at you when somebody walked right through you and you didn’t notice.”

“Oh” the conversation continued.

A security guard of some sort stopped at the cell we were in, or should I saw Mars was in. “Quit talking to yourself, your supposed to be sleeping.” Mars laid down to the guard’s orders. I took his keys as he walked away.

“Where’d you go?” Mars whispered when I left. I opened his cell door.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, being crazy isn’t a disability, it’s a gift. Now come on we’re getting out of here.” I didn’t want him in there any longer. I could see they never let him out, such a horrible punishment for someone who’s perfectly fine.

“I can’t leave, I have no where to go.” Mars was right. But I had a plan. I told him we’d get a job, I know of an abandoned house that we could fix up with some of the money. He was proud to say he had a degree in psychology. I was surprised but I Couldn’t think of anywhere he could work with that. The mental institute? No, he already had too much time there. A bright light bulb glowed above my. I took it and sold it later, but I had an idea.

“Social worker! Good money, meet people.”

“What kind of social worker.”

“Mental health…never mind, um, you could help drug attics.” I had to say.

“Sounds good.” To everyone else on the street he was talking to himself, I told him to go to the employment office.

There we met a schizophrenic man working at a desk in front of a computer, everything perfectly aligned. Fifteen to thirty minutes it took to find the job. Luckily we could have the druggies come to our house for the help sessions. You wouldn’t believe how much they would pay. Enough to fix the leak in the roof, new windows, door handles, that didn’t happen until after a month. Mars did have TV for about an hour a day, after that month he didn’t miss it one bit.

Two months and we were out of business. Well no one would come anymore, don’t know why, I thought we were doing pretty good. The house was looking less bad, not good.

After that, Mars got a job at the library, I did a lot of reading. So did Mars. We both read The Broken Bridge. One sitting, that did it, I’d never read again. My invisible tear fell but didn’t hit the ground. I realized I didn’t have the power to do any thing in this world. I can’t feel, can’t move things, and can’t talk to people who aren’t crazy. As soon as I realized this I was gone, no sound, smell, as fast as a magic trick, gone. Everything was dark, black whole dark. Lights. I was in jail.

“Hey!” A few people looked, they could see me. I smiled and sat back in my cement bed. This sure wasn’t heaven, it was good enough for me, and I was alive, real. I was back.