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We had come to count on the privilege of this view into Jackson’s clearly pained existence. Yet we continued to dance to his songs at parties, exalt the talents of his youth and younger years, and give him credit for changing the landscape of music. It was as if there were two different Michael Jacksons, the one who was here and the one who was already gone.
And now that Michael Jackson is gone, not just the part of him we loved and worshiped, but also those parts of him that we questioned and mocked, we are left with a confounding and massive emptiness.
”Carrie Brownstein on Michael Jackson’s death
(via newsandbooze)(via tylercoates)
(via suicideblonde)
(via bohemea)
EXACTLY.
(via herekitty)
(via antoinetta)
I didn’t want to flood my tumblog with him. I didn’t want to see his face, I didn’t want to think about it. I guess it’s easy to say that I was always on his side, always rooting from the sidelines in the face of opposition, because you don’t know me. You don’t know that I’d always hoped that his health would get better and he would go on tour again, or at least make a few more songs so he could touch the younger generations and not just be the butt of an ill-informed joke. Children won’t know how much he did for the world and that breaks my heart more than his death.
