I Miss You, Michael

I Miss You Michael - Part 1 (MJJ Imagine No. 24)

#Imagine you're dusting your employer's desk when a torn piece of paper sticking out from under it catches your eye. Out of curiosity you pick it up and look at it. The words "crucified me" grab your attention so you sit in his chair and begin to guiltily read what's written in his distinct handwriting. Although you know it's an invasion of the privacy he tries so hard to protect because of who he is, you can't help but continue reading.

It's been a very long and extremely exhausting day for Michael. He slowly walks the stairs to the second floor of his home at Neverland. All he wants to do is shed his clothes and crawl into bed. He looks at his watch - 4:38 p.m. Instead, he turns and makes his way down the hall toward his office to make a call to his attorney. They need to discuss his decision on what he's going to do about Neverland - will he move and sell it or will he move but continue to maintain it? It's a decision he's not taking lightly and he knows the D.A. will never stop. As he approaches, he notices his office door is open and the light is on.

Michael's words on the torn piece of paper appear to be new lyrics to a song he wrote over a decade ago. You can't help but cry because you know exactly where these new words are coming from. Over the last couple of years, you've watched Michael change from a happy, fun loving guy to someone who puts on a happy face when in fact he's sad; someone who smiles when he's really crying inside; someone who was abandoned by most of his "friends" during his time of need; someone who trusts no one right now; someone whom the media maliciously targets more than they ever have. You look at the paper in your hand once more and again read the partial lyrics he's re-written:

I gave them money
I gave them time
I gave them everything
Inside my heart could find
I gave them all
My very soul
I gave them honesty
And a future full of hope

And it never really mattered
And it truly isn't right
All their lies have crucified me
And I cry for peace at night
Don't you judge of my composure
'Cause I'm dying deep inside
Is the reason why they fucked me
Just my fortune one more time?

Michael stops when he reaches the door and sees you sitting at his desk. Just as he opens his mouth to address you, he quickly closes it when he sees the tears running down your cheeks. He leans against the doorframe so he can watch you for a few minutes but his shoulder catches the door causing it to open and hit the doorstop.

You immediately look up and are shocked to find Michael in the doorway. He's home much earlier than he should be today. His paper drops from your hand as you quickly stand. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson," you nervously say while pushing his chair in and trying to wipe your tears away without him seeing. "I didn't mean. . . ," you nervously stammer. You hurry away from his desk and walk toward the door, lowering your head out of embarrassment for being caught sitting at his desk reading something so private. He catches your upper arm with his hand as you walk by him.

"[Your first name]," he calls out in that quiet voice of his while stopping you. You don't look at him. "Show me what you were reading."

You panic and tell him, "It. . . Nothing. It wasn't anything. I just found a piece of paper on the floor while I was dusting."

He lets you go and takes your hand in his before beginning to walk toward his desk. You nervously turn around and follow him knowing you have no choice. "It wasn't nothing," he tells you as he lets your hand go.

You stand there rooted to the spot without looking at him. Being fired runs through your mind, although deep in your heart you don't think he would. Your heart begins to beat fast and you convince yourself it's better to apologize than to continue to say nothing. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jackson. I shouldn't be here. I should not have been in your office but. . ."