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I want you


My hand shot up and before I even realized what it entailed I heard my name being called. 

“Max!”

FUCK

I regret even coming to school, even waking up on time. I begin shaking violently though I dont notice it at first, and it feels like the wind has been knocked out of me. I get up out of my seat and push the table away from me so I can move. I run up the stairs of the auditorium and type in the name of my song.

‘I Want You’ Mitski karaoke

I'm so nervous I can't spell right. I put it on and run to the stage. I suddenly realize how much im shaking. My knees feel like jelly and I can't breathe. 

“My name is Max and I'll be singing I want you, by Mitski…”

My mind goes blank and I wait for the part in the music where I begin. I thought I missed it, and then it came.

In the shakiest voice that's on the brink of cracking and shattering all over my audience,

I begin.

I sang to the boy who was right in front of me, the one who I wanted to love.

I run out of breath and take a shaky one. 

My throat swells and my voice cries. I can feel myself remembering.

I sang to the boy who was always behind me, who always has been. The one that I hated loving.

I felt myself dedicating my heart to both of them, and jamming a stake right through it. 

It's not that I can't take this, I don't want to take it. I don't want to burden myself with it. I want to let go and spend my 20s on energy. I want you to drive me home again. I fucking hate the way you drive this car. You drive recklessly and you drive us right into a pole. I see your soft face and the shattered glass reflecting in your eyes. Fuck this car. I want you to take me fishing. Take me on your boat and teach me things. I'm tired of crashing and burning up. It's dramatic and makes for good nightmares, but I want to catch a big fish with you. I want him to stop putting bait on my line. I wish I had never buckled my seatbelt. I wish I had never met either of you. 

I gasp as I finish the song. 

Applause.

“I believe in you.”

Will echo in the glass until it is smothered out by my hands. Fuck saying words to me, I want you to talk with me. Fuck a smile I want to cheese with you. Fuck all that phoney shit, I want you to make me dinner and then watch tv with me. I want to be backstage again. I want to be in 3rd grade again.

“Your eyes were fixed on the same spot on the ground the whole time.”

 
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Comments (1)

cecilymock
<p><span style="font-family: &quot;DM Sans&quot;, sans-serif; font-size: 18px;">Your visceral, anxiety-driven narrative powerfully captures the physical and emotional intensity of performance anxiety, reminiscent of Anne Sexton&#39;s confessional style in how you merge bodily sensation with emotional turmoil. The stream-of-consciousness flow in the latter half, particularly the striking imagery of &quot;shattered glass reflecting in your eyes&quot; and the juxtaposition of fishing boats against car crashes, brings to mind Frank O&#39;Hara&#39;s intimate, conversational style in poems like &quot;The Day Lady Died.&quot; Your masterful building of tension through short, punchy sentences (&quot;Applause,&quot; &quot;I begin&quot;) creates a cinematographic quality that pulls readers into the immediate moment of performance and vulnerability. The way you weave together past and present, desire and regret, shows remarkable emotional complexity - keep nurturing this raw, honest voice.</span></p>

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