Smell Your Roses

I was a HOT mess, watching My Sister's Keeper, the other day with a good girlfriend. Balling my eyes out, sniffing uncontrollably, wondering when the pain would stop, when the lead character would just die....!!!...

The truth: I am a hot mess at the end of every film, not just the tear jerkers. Romantic comedies, to happily resolved thrillers, action flicks and the few sci-fi/fantasy movies I can tolerate watching all make me cry rivers, streams, oceans, floods..... Suffering through a really hard break up, my brother's long-term girlfriend dying, the family member on drugs and in prison and the general purposelessness of my life currently, I haven't really cried once. I've carried the burden of pain every day, my eyes will cloud up, get a little misty but no streams, no rivers, floods or oceans.

Michael Jackson really affected me: I didn't cry. That's how I know. I feel guilty too. I judged him so harshly, teased, taunted, all because he disappointed me. From the insanity of being an international superstar in debt to the accusations of paedophilia. I was personally insulted by his change of skin colour, I felt rejected by someone who was my hero.

I use veet hair remover. The only reason I know to choose veet is because I have seen an unrecognisable, tall, blond, blue-eyed lady with gorgeous legs use it. How am I any different to MJ? Aren't we all in some capacity chasing those projected western notions of beauty?

I judged him too harshly. I judged full-stop. He never really had a chance. This was always going to be a tragedy. Who knows what I would have done to myself had I been robbed of a childhood, beaten to perform and treated as a meal-ticket for someone elses social aspirations. Used and under appreciated and now gone. Too late.

I hope he got to cry uncontrollably about absolutely nothing. I hope he had his release. I hope he had an opportunity to smell the roses that people before and now after lined up to give him. I hope he's in heaven, smelling his roses.