Michael's Point Of View ~

'We Are The World' Studio Session | Los Angeles, California

It's late. Everyone else has left the studio for the night. But I remain. I don't wish to go home, not just yet. I want this to be perfect. I walk back towards the single microphone, headphones on.

Voice very much ready, heart in it.

I hear the playback through my headphones and I can't help but gently sway to it as I listen.

I begin to sing.

"We are the world. We are the children . . "

"We are the ones who make a better day, so let's start giving . . "

"There's a choice we're making, we're saving our own lives . . "

"It's true we make a better day, just you and me . . "

And straight after, the playback stops. I have many thoughts in my mind, many thoughts. I replay the verse I just sung in my head. I wrote these lyrics only a few hours ago but it leaves me thinking . . and I can't help it. Should I tweak it somehow? Should I change some words around? Or is it good how it is? The voice of Quincy brings me out of my head and back into the present of the studio.

"What are you thinking, Mike? . . " Quincy asks me.

I giggle to myself as I know Quincy has asked this question in particular as he just knows me too well by now . . and I know me better than anyone,  so it's a very relevant question indeed.

"Quincy, do you think I should say 'you and me' or 'you and I' at the end? . . "

I ask him. I know it may seem like the same thing but to me, it's from two totally different worlds. I can't help it. I need to sort this out as I am left undecided. But it's a chuckle that fills the studio all of a sudden, telling me that Quincy too, believes it's the same thing. His voice then rings through once more, in the studio, where I am, as he sits on the other side of the glass, a yellow pencil in his hand.

"I like 'you and me' . . " Quincy tells me.

I agree. "Yeah. It's much more soulful . . "

"Okay Mike. Back to the top . . "

I nod. Being already ready to go back in that direction. The process for this song has been amazing. I wanted the song to be something like an anthem, where it would affect the whole world. Reaching out to many different artists that possess many different voice sounds. I felt that by doing this, the song would reach that level of then becoming an anthem, I hope. The chorus is played back. These headphones allow me to hear the music and my recorded voice back to me. I listen . . my body never failing to move, swaying here and there as it so wishes to dance. Head-bobbing and the tiniest of finger clicking too. As I hear it again, as I listen incredibly intently . . I really like it. I'm happy with it.

"Talk to me, Michael . . " Quincy says with a chuckle.

I know that he is so anxious to know what I'm thinking.

"It sounds great. Pleased with it . . " I tell him smiling.

I giggle as I hear him release a sigh of relief. He asks me if I wanna continue this studio session, adding even more hours to an already long day. But I'm ready to call it a night . . and I know Quincy feels the same. I look to my right, at the clock that hangs on the wall. Is that really the time? . . it's almost 3am. My mind then shifts, immediately thinking about Ariana. Her tour is over now and she should be home. Oh no. I told myself I was going to be home when she arrived home.

Damn it, Jackson! I just got so side tracked.

I should've been there.

I say a panicked goodbye to Quincy before leaving the studio, feeling disappointed in myself. But of course, I'm not alone as I make my way to the waiting car. Instead, escorted . . always.

I buckle myself into my seat, more than ready to get home.

But the drive is in slow motion, I feel. I wish to drive this car all on my very own as the trip to get back home is taking forever. I sit in the car, only slightly slouched. With my elbow resting on the ledge the sits on the door of the car with my face resting in my palm. I look out the window, upset. I am a terrible person . . a horrible boyfriend. I just want to get home to see her. As I look out the window, the outside world is quiet, so dark. The only sign that indicates any form of life at a time like this, is a wild raccoon that wonders around the streets. Looking for those food scraps that we humans, leave behind. The silhouette of this animal is almost haunting.

But the daydreaming seems to pay off because . . we have arrived at our house.

It felt like a lifetime but the front gate is seen, with the house standing behind it. I sit up from my previous slouched position, now sitting up straight. My eyes locked onto the house and nothing else.

I need to get there.

My security speak in their radios, having my head of security, Arthur, and two other men in my security with me in the car, so it's safe to say it's a little overcrowded in here. Arthur is given the green light once he states the fact that he is with me, the gate opens. A step closer to being home but it's the slow moving car up the driveway that may just be the death of me. The front door there now. The car comes to a slow stop. Arthur hops out leaving me in the car to wait for him to give me the all clear.

Seconds pass.

Before he appears again.

"All clear, Mr Jackson . . " Arthur says to me.

Thank god. I hop out of the car. With a hint of speed in my step, I make my way inside. The staircase is where I need to go next. I abandon my usual one step at a time, instead skipping a step in an attempt to get to our bedroom quicker. I stand in the doorway.

Darkness.

But I see a silhouette, laying down on the bed. My fast paced movements are no more as the rest of my journey is much more slow paced. Quite motions, hoping they are as mute as possible so I don't disturb her. I now stand at the side of the bed. She isn't clear to me as the darkness makes her obscure, but I know it's her. I watch as she lays so still, sleeping. I see as her delicate body rises and falls so gracefully as she breaths. As I look at her, I feel my heart pound from the sight of her alone. I feel a glimpse of impatience as I wish to hear her voice, to bring her so close to me in an embrace and tell her how much I have missed her, how much I love her . . but I won't. I don't want to wake her. Wanting her to sleep as the exhaustion of the tour has hit her. I make my way towards our large walk-in wardrobe. I take off my black jacket, carefully as it's embroidered in gold, then I hang it up. Next my loafers are to come off and then my glitter socks . . my brain screaming to me to remain as silent as possible, so a gentle tug of each loafer, then each sock is all that is needed. I take a quick shower, changing into a plain white shirt and black pants.

Back to the bed, about to hop in. But I know something as simple as the rise of the bed sheet could disturb her so once more, very slowly, My face slightly scrunched as I proceed, lifting the bed sheet for me to quickly but quietly slide in.

But my efforts are in vain.

"Michael? . . "

I hear Ariana's tired voice all of a sudden. Damn it, Jackson!

"It's just me. Hey baby . . "

My voice a whisper, even though she has awoken. But she'll fall back asleep. She's lucky that way. I lay down on my back and it doesn't take long for her to calmly scramble over to me. I have an arm around her as her head rests on my chest. I notice she places her hand underneath my shirt, like she wishes to feel my skin as soon as she can. Her fingernails gently sweep from my chest down to my belly button.

"I finally have you back . . "

Ariana says softly. I turn my head so that my lips are above her head, planting a kiss there. I giggle has I too, feel the exact same way - I finally have her back.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you got home, baby . . "

She giggles. Seeming so unbothered, her persona relaxed.

"I know you, Michael. You never stop working. So it's okay . . "

She says. I smile because well, she's not wrong. I hate not working. I hate the idea of doing nothing. I love to create, I love to make magic. I love to create the unexpected. And with a mind like mine, I'm allowed to do just that. But it has a downside too.

I suffer from insomnia.

Ariana falls back asleep as I hear her soft breathing. I stare up at the ceiling, looking into the darkness as my fingers play with her hair. And I lay here, wide awake . . so, I just think. But for me to be doing that at the earliest of hours of the morning, it's normal

That's the insomnia talking.

I think about the day that was today. The song itself, and the fact that within a matter of hours, I will have yet another big day on my hands. As it's the day everyone will gather once again in the studio to record 'We Are The World' - when we stand together as one, I love to say . . so much so, that it's a lyric in the song. My free hand coming up to my face, rubbing my eyes.

Not because I'm tired, but wishing I was.

The softest of sighs is released from my lips so Ariana isn't at all disturbed or startled. For her to wake up from my own problem, my own frustration that my insomnia causes me . . I wouldn't forgive myself. Ariana knows that I barely sleep, that I suffer from this terrible disorder. But I don't talk about it too much, it's just something I don't wish to make a big deal over. It's just something that I'm trying to deal with as best as I can.

Not wanting to make a fuss.

She's so peaceful, so calm. So very much deserving of this rest. For when she awakens, just when she and I can finally have some time alone, Ariana can tell me all about her tour. I can't wait to hear about it all. I am so proud of her, knowing she worked so hard on that album. But right now, it's quiet. And as I said before . . I finally have her back.

Because I have missed her so.

to be continued.