Here I sit, bawling my face off... it's reminiscent of the shock and mourning that I went through when Princess Di died.
Michael Jackson is dead.
I can't even tell you how devastated I am. I don't care about all the contraversey. I don't care what colour his skin was. He was an artist like no other. He paved the way for so many of today's artists. So much of today's culture started with him.
I can't tear away from it. I'm in my office, trying to work, with tears streaming down my face, listening to the tv blasting in the living room.
An icon is dead.
He was such a huge part of my teen years. I loved him. LOVED him. My bedroom door was covered in pictures of him. I wallpapered my door with him. Pictures during his Beat It days. Billie Jean. Today, if I saw him, I would be one of those screaming blithering idiots. He does that to me. Did that to me. Past tense now, I guess. Oh, that hurts.
I just know that there are going to be people that have negative to say. That will only remember the molestation charges. That will mock him. And that will tear me apart. My struggle over the next while will be avoiding those types of speakers. I'm sure it won't be easy.
He was brilliant. He was tragic. And I loved him unconditionally through it all. I never judged him. It wasn't my place.
If you have issues, or baggage, you may be offended by what you read here. I work through my self loathing of my own fat, and my own fat issues, and I’m told this comes across as loathing all fat people. That is simply not the case.
Here I talk about my issues and my findings, without political correctness. I am not concerned with your issues, or your baggage, or what you may take from this. The title is "My Journey".
This blog is not meant to inspire anyone. I take no responsibility for what you take away from here. You are here as a guest into my inner thoughts.