The death of Michael Jackson is the end of the first chapter of my life. The life I loved because it did not have to deal with the mundane routine jobs that people call real life. His death is the death of my imagination, my dreams and my memories of growing up in his loving shelter.
From when I was 12 years old to now when I am 25, Michael Jackson was the one and only influence in my life. He gave me the will to survive in moments I hated life. He gave me solutions to uncomfortable problems. He was my mentor. He gave me confidence. He gave me love. Now, after thirteen years of being together, his death has left me shattered and devastated. I feel like an orphan, an abandoned child. I don’t know how to search for another pretext of living through the painfully mundane life that lies ahead.

He had the liveliest and most expressive eyes I have ever seen. Though I never saw him in real life, I remember I had a picture of him pasted on my closet for eight years while I was at my parents home. His eyes talked to me all the time. In those teenage years, when I had a fight with my parents or siblings, or I was dealing through a tough time at school, thinking about problems I couldn’t share with anybody, or simply just being alone, those eyes never left me. They had the solution to everything. I was writhing with rage one moment , and then I just had to look at his picture and I was invaded with such calmness that I thought only saints could achieve. Such power, such chemistry. His eyes would water when I was unhappy. they would smile when I was cheerful. They could become stern if I was doing something wrong .And I would never feel alone. No, I was never alone growing up.

Those days to reach the pinnacle of my happiness, all I needed was to accidentally catch one video of him on TV. And believe me it was tough. I lived in a very small town plagued by power cuts. Whenever they started to play a song, as my luck would have it, there would be a power cut. If somehow the electricity stayed, the cable network got interrupted. I t was a struggle to watch a complete video. And when I did, I was euphoric. I was blissfully content. The level of my happiness would be equal to winning a million dollar lottery . He had the key to my life. Michael Jackson kept me satisfied. He kept me content. There was no room for wanting anymore. There was no room for anything else.

My deep attachment with him lies in the fact that for me he was closer than family, He was not a pop star, distant and larger than life, but a personal friend. I could derive strength from his exemplary life. His trials and tribulations, the tough life he lived through, and yet fought it all, mad me see my troubles as conquerable and small.. .

I introduced my small town school to MJ. For them he was just a name. I made everyone aware of the living legend he was. I was a timid one with stage fright but I gave a solo performance on EARTH DAY singing his EARTH SONG to the whole school. The applaud was thunderous, rewarding and satisfying. But what I liked hearing most was… “What a beautiful song, I didn’t know MJ was a singer..I thought he was a dancer!” Or something like, “No wonder he is so famous, He has talent!”
The courage and motivation to step on a stage when I hated and feared it from inside, came from my overwhelming desire to let people know the real him. And in turn I got more confident and more recognized in school. He was playing his part in my self development all the time. He helped me grow up to be something.
He never let me down whenever I needed him. I remember once, before our schools annual night, where I was to sing his Heal the World, I got so nervous and cold feet that I thought I was going to ruin the whole thing. The night before, I prayed to God to let him connect to me. I was like” Michael, give me a sign that I I’ll be alright tomorrow. Show me that you are there for me, you’ve got to show me …” And right then and there, the radio started playing Heal the world, just like that. I was awed. I got an answer just like that. As I heard that moving voice, confidence surged inside and I was sure he was with me and nothing could go wrong. I sang amazingly the next day.

Michael Jackson helped me grow up into whatever I am today. I owe my whole personality development to him. I learned to survive through jibes and comments of friends and relatives who thought less of me. It stopped disturbing me, because he was there. He would say look at me…I have to hear worse things all the time.”
“Don’t let no one get you down, Keep moving n higher ground, keep flying until you are the king f the hill,No force of nature can break, your will so self motivate”

His songs spoke personally to me all the time. When I was weeping and lonely, I would hear him in my ears. “You are not alone, I am here with you, though you’re far away, I am here to stay.” Obviously, I never said and revealed all this before openly because everybody would think of me as another loony bin.

All I want to say is that its just about the power of belief. If you believe in something, it gets real. If taken in the right way, it can help you in the extremes. I used what I felt for Michael, to help me grow and be successful in whatever I did. I used it to create a parallel world of my own to shove off all disappointments and loneliness of the real world, which could have crippled me otherwise.

Today, this personal world of mine has crashed. I am suddenly unsheltered, unprotected, exposed to the harshness of the cruel world outside. I feel helpless and sad. But what enrages me is the hypocrisy of the world when it comes to him. After his death, the newspapers and TV can’t stop remembering how great he was. Everybody is paying him tributes and feeling what a loss he is to the world. Why had they forgotten all this when he was alive? Why the only things that mattered when he was alive were how his nose looked like or the false maligning cases on him by money greedy mongrels. Why did people not stand by him instead of taking pleasure in his tough times?

I console myself by thinking that he went at the right time. If he had died of old age, the world would have broken him completely by then. He went after achieving everything in life. He didn’t leave anything unfulfilled. He lived his life to the fullest. He came as a king, he went as a king. I know he is happy now wherever he is. I love u, Michael. RIP. I know you will be there for me , always….

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