Numb (Linkin Park)

As I listened back to “You Know You’re Right,” I was both content and horrified with my performance. In moments where I couldn’t tell my voice apart from Cobain’s, I wondered if I was truly alone in the studio. The lingering feeling of spiritual presence had always stayed with me, but more often than not, it would be disregarded as mere coincidence. But as the alcohol consumed me, I fell deeper into the thought that I was in the presence of something larger than myself. My body, feeling numb from the amount of beer I drank, made me realize how fitting it was to close out the night on Smule with another song. Singing “Numb” by Linkin Park seemed like the perfect choice, as I hoped to find a few seconds within the performance that gave me the goosebumps I craved to feel. With no one around to give me my fix of validation, I’d have to validate myself and be my biggest cheerleader. I took a deep breath and pressed the record button, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu as the opening chords filled my ears. The words flowed out of me as if they were my own, each syllable a desperate plea for understanding and solace. “I’m tired of being what you want me to be, feeling so faithless, lost under the surface,” I sang, my voice heavy with the weight of my emotions. The chorus approached, and I felt the familiar surge of adrenaline as I prepared to let loose the full force of my voice. “Can’t you see that you’re smothering me, holding too tightly, afraid to lose control?” I sang, my voice rising to meet the intensity of the music. “Cause everything that you thought I would be has fallen apart right in front of you.” As the final notes of “Numb” faded away, I felt a sudden chill run down my spine. The goosebumps I had craved now covered my entire body, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Closing my eyes, I would envision myself on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans, and with the melody still loud in my head, would chant the final words of the Jay-Z remix, feeling extreme pride in that moment to be from Brooklyn. “So for one last time, I need ya’ll to roar!” But then, as the music faded and I stood in the silence of the studio, the lingering sense of spiritual presence seemed to grow stronger, as if I had somehow tapped into a hidden reservoir of energy through the power of my performance. I took my final sip, and flicked the light switch to it’s off position as I exited the studio.

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