Senseless ramblings
I had to laugh. Then I had to cry. Then I had to think for a long time. A fan walked up to me yesterday and said 'Isn't it interesting how everyone in the world wants to be Michael Jackson and all Michael Jackson wants to be is Peter Pan?' One of life's paradoxes I suppose. Peter Pan and I are not that dissimilar. We're both fabrications of the media. Novels, movies. Does anyone really know what Peter Pan thought or felt? Does anyone really know Michael Jackson? In my heart, I am Peter Pan. I am never going to grow up. This closed off infatuation with retaining my youth has caused countless stories to be printed about me. Why can't I just be happy in my one story, like Peter? Why must all of being respected and admired fade when people just don't understand? Have you seen my childhood? It has grown into something that is still pressworthy. My eternal childhood, youth, Neverland. I find it over and over through the children, through my children, through sick children and healthy children. I do what I can. Debbie knew, she believed. I think even Lisa knew, to an extent. I am grateful for what I have, don't get me wrong. I am proud to be Michael Jackson, the real Michael Jackson or whatever that entails. I also believe I have a fountain of youth and joy and innocence in my heart that I am not willing to let go. That, in a way, makes me Peter Pan.