I had to take some time to sit with this as the story of Michael Jackson fills me with much sadness.
I too, was an early teen obsessed with MJ. My bedroom wallpaper was MJ. I remember staying up until midnight for the UK world premiere of the Thriller video to record and learn the dance routine. I was able to see him twice in my lifetime. The first time, I literally bumped into him at Disneyland as he and Maculay Culkin were getting off the Matterhorn ride; we threw up “Peace” signs at each other. I remember seeing a familiar face who looked like somebody else. The “Man in the Mirror” didn’t look like the Michael I had fantasized about. The second time was 6-months later when he came to London for the Bad Tour at Wembley Stadium. We stood completely frozen in awe of his performance, while it poured down with rain. It didn’t matter; we were watching MJ. He was the standard and we were his followers.
He was adored, revered, and loved. But it was a superficial kind of love. We loved Michael for what he gave us, and he loved us for the support we gave him. However, love does not have a price tag; love is.
The life of Michael Jackson is a true American tragedy; unparalleled talent, extraordinary entertainer, record-breaking sales (LPs, CDs, merchandise, shows), and yet on the flip side, being on top is the loneliest place on earth. Everyone around him wanted something from him. Mistaking attention for love only heightened his insecurities of self. It’s no wonder why he surrounded himself with children, as they never judged or expected anything from him; as children ‘possess the secret of joy’.
Michael needed help and the result of his lack of help, lead the media to turn his life into an circus, and with every ridicule, the deeper MJ went into the hole. I feel a sense of atonement for him. It is over now. He is now free from the prison his fame created. One of the greatest performers of all-time can now rest in peace. Sigh.
Michael Jackson, you will be sorely missed!
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