Michael's Point Of View ~

Children's Hospital | Los Angeles, California

Other than Ariana - this is where I feel so happy.

When I visit the children's hospital. I love to do this and as much as I possibly can. But I don't do it to put on a show and say 'look at me' . . . no, I do this from my heart as that is where it comes from. These children are sick and to see them smile so bright once I walk into their hospital room just makes me so happy.

The media stationed right outside while there are only a select few allowed inside with me.

But I don't care. Because right now - they just simply don't exist to me. It's only the children that I am focused on. It's a day off for me today and that mostly means that I come to the children's hospital for a good few hours. Ariana is working again on an already new song that she is scheduled to be filmed within a matter of days. Hmm, and I thought I was the workaholic. It's the same for me - it's yet another project in the works but that's for another day to think about, because today . . it's about the children. Once again, it's the flashes of those cameras that give me that irk that I try so hard to shake.

But it is all part of it, right?

I walk towards this child. A young girl. Displaying a smile that makes me so joyful that despite everything that I'm feeling, I beam from it. She speaks softly, telling me that her name is Emma after I ask. She is sick. But still, she chooses to smile. I place my hand gently upon the top of her head. As she looks up at me, I see cords and so many of them. But these cords will help her and I'm praying get her back to her previous self. However, as I look at her, I see something else . . I can already see that she won't ask me for any money. The fact that I'm right beside her, she won't be wanting her fifteen minutes of fame. Not even caring about anything like that, I'm sure. I know that she doesn't want anything from me.

That is why I love children as much as I do.

Because they don't want anything from me.

I say goodbye to Emma. Waving to her as she does the same and continuing to smile. God bless her. She is so special. I walk down the hallway of this hospital and of course, never alone. I am informed of another room to enter and that I do . . walking in to see another young child.

A little boy.

He's very young. I would guess around two or three years old.

Again, a smile is spread on his face. His eyes light up. It makes so happy to see. Something that I definitely need to do more of lately because if I'm honest . . I have been having a very tough few days.

Ugh. It's my skin.

It has got more worse as my hands aren't the only place where the spots of my vitiligo reside. As of now, I have found numerous new spots on my chest, my neck and my legs with more places to comes I'm sure as I feel as if it's going to get more worse. But I do hope I'm wrong.

I want to cry.

So badly.

I don't like to think negatively but when it comes to my skin disorder - it's all I do. I didn't ask for this. I hate it. I really hate it. It just makes me incredibly sad, insecure and just makes me want to hide away from the world forever. So, I decided to come here to the children's hospital in an attempt to get my mind off of it. Ugh. I sense my mind going deeper into that state of showing how I'm truly feeling and I can't have that. I think about what mother would teach us, what mother still tells me to this day - appreciate what you have and most importantly, love who you are. I think about this very statement, only taking me a matter of seconds. Along with telling myself to be strong . . to be as strong as I can be. I look at this little boy and that's all it takes for my mind to be switched and focus back onto the children.

I ask the nurse that is with me.

I ask her all about this little boy. What is he sick with? How long he has been in this hospital and when will he be going back home to be with his family . . if at all. In the most professional way possible, she goes right ahead and tells me everything.

Even telling me his name.

It's Samuel.

What a sweet child. I kneel down and look him right in the eyes with a smile.

"Hello . . "

I say in the softest of voices so I don't startle him. He beams, and so do I. Actually meaning it. He reaches his hand out so I take it gently into mine. It makes me smile, so brightly that everything else just disappears

The media.

Ugh. It's the haunting thought of my vitiligo.

It's just everything.

See, when I look at children I see complete and utter innocence. Purity at its finest as such things like greed and more than anything lies are just something that doesn't even exist when I am around them . . that is something that only the adults bring to the table. I continue my travel through the hospital with each room containing a different child - some sicker than the last. Arthur walks close behind me, always in his sights when in public. I wave to the cameras as they are still pointing towards me.

And before I know it . .

The hours have passed.

For now, it's time for me to leave.

I'm quickly ushered into my waiting car, Arthur joining me. However, he remains invisible and speaking only once I have spoken to him - his words, not mine. I look out the cars tinted windows as the media and the screams from my fans reside as the car starts before it drives along and away slowly. To see all the smiles that the children showed, the innocence that was all over their faces helped but it was only to an extent. Ugh. I can't help but to be down . . so down. I can't shake off to feel the way I'm feeling no matter how much I have tried to get my mind off it. I feel I can only now pull down my masquerade mask as I'm away from the sweet faces of those many children and continue to feel so blue.

Ariana isn't home. But in rehearsal for her upcoming new single.

So, I know me - better than anyone else does. And I know exactly where I will go once I arrive back home . . where else but our home recording studio. Let me do it. I want to sing, write and to just be alone with my thoughts and feelings. I won't tell Ariana exactly how it is though for I know she will worry about me.

She always does.

She can't help it, she tells me.

But my vitiligo . . well, it's my problem. Not hers. The night we made love after my parents anniversary celebration - it was still only on my hands, but now . . it's worse - spreading rapidly. I hold my tears in as I think this thought, immediately finding myself become increasingly uncomfortable causing me to shift in my seat.

What is Ariana will fall out of love with me if she is to ever see just how bad my vitiligo has gotten from the point of her being disgusted in me?

Arthur looks at me.

But I brush him off with a nod.

Thank god - home. I walk through the front door and straight toward the studio, telling Arthur along the way I don't wish to be disturbed for anything.

Headphones on.

The world now doesn't exists.

I begin to just sing anything into the microphone. I want to beam again, but right now - I can't ignore my feelings. I'm sorry but I am nervous. A pit of fear pokes from my stomach as I begin to write about anything and everything really because that is truly where I feel most at home. I write about true events mixed in with fiction. I let out a deep sigh of relief as this right here is what I live for . . to create.

It's where I feel most safe and secure and where I believe nothing will reach out and hurt me. Lyrics pouring right out of me.

I write . . and I write.

This is incredible. I love when I create music this easily. The many lyrics before me now and even the beat of each song is already flowing within my mind - beat boxing and bobbing my head as I do this.

This is how I create.

This is how magic is made.

There is no masquerade here anymore. This is real. I grab my tape recorder and sing each song into it to have it ready for the possibility of the near future.

The clock reads 12am.

Damn it, Jackson!

I always do this. Spending many hours in the studio with time ticking by as I'm always left unaware until it's way too late. But I must leave this room and very soon. This I know. Because I must sleep . . well, try too at least.

My journey to our bedroom is short and sweet. I check my phone to see a text from Ariana - she says she is on her way home now. Hmm, also saying I hope that I'm already asleep. But I'm not . . nowhere near it. The quickest of showers then follows a change into my black boxers and all without daring to glance towards the mirror. My hand falls onto my face as I already know . . I am not going to fall asleep, not on my own at least.

I will take only two.

I open the cabinet, the bottle in my hand. My sleeping pills. I know it's not good but I'm left desperate and constantly feeling as if there is no other option for me but to do this if I ever wish to sleep I can hopefully dream of.

I just want to sleep . . that's all I want.

Touring or not, it's something that I have always struggled with. One tablet, then the second is taken before I wash it down with a few mouthfuls of tap water. The bathroom light flicked off as I make my way towards our bed.

Ah, that's an incredible feeling. The soft mattress that lay underneath my mentally battered being. I'm laying on my back . . waiting.

Now I should fall asleep.

to be continued.