amoureaux -

I had just began falling asleep when my mother burst into my room and woke me up. She told me Michael was being rushed to the hospital, and I immediately turned the news on.

Mouth to mouth resusitation, sounding heart beats
intimidations

Michael, are you okay? (I don’t know) Michael, are you okay? (We don’t know)

I’d never in my life given a shit about anything that TMZ has ever had to say but I was on their site like white on rice. Was talking to Cetta, showing her stuff, when Michael took the internet with him, so to speak.

I was frantic. You see, some people may not understand. I’m going to state this as blatantly as I can. If you were to read the case files, if you were to NOT believe the media hype, you would know Michael Jackson was not guilty of the accusations. Go read the case files yourself. Don’t believe me, go read them. That’s what I did. I knew that since he was odd, PLUS he was Michael Jackson, they would use this for ratings. So I went directly to the released file cases and I made my own unbiased decision based on the background records of the parents and the statement of the child. Not to mention the phone call from the father to his lawyer saying they’d definitely be the ruin of Michael Jackson, and they’d be getting a lot of money out of it.

I stuck by this man just like his music, his voice, his lyrics stuck by me when I was a beaten and abused little girl. You see, I could hide under my bed with a boombox, put in his Dangerous casette, and I felt like I had a friend. I grew up with Michael Jackson’s voice keeping me company. He was the first artist I ever heard, his lyrics were the first I ever sung, his dances were the first I tried to do. I watched his videos, the ones with him and kids, and I wished I was there. He did things for children the majority of this fucking world wouldn’t do. He’s paid for cancer treatments, he’s donated a ridiculous amount to foundations, he’s done absolutely all he as a man, and a GOOD one, could do. So the fuck what if he looked weird, get over it, there’s a lot of weird looking motherfuckers, some of them being yourselves, but you don’t hear me saying shit.

I am devastated. I’ve been crying on and off since the headline “Michael Jackson, Dead at 50″ hit me like a fucking Mack truck. I refuse to believe the media hype, I refuse to give in to the pedophile bullshit, and if you have something to say about it you can either 1) keep it to yourself or 2) get disowned, because I’m really not about to hear/deal/put up with the bullshit. The man’s body is in a coroner’s office being chopped into unrecognizable pieces and this is upsetting to me, so if you have the audacity, the balls, the courage to say something like that to -me- after reading this, we will have some fucking problems. I don’t care about your opinions, keep them to yourself, if you can’t respect the man, then just shut the fuck up.

I’m taking this loss like I’d take a loss of a good friend because that’s what he was to me when I was little and had no one in the world. All I had was him and I’m hurting. I don’t expect understanding and I don’t expect anyone to give a fuck but I do expect respect.

Will You Be There?

Long live the King.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 30th, 2009 at 12:39 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.