"I simply hide behind my masks. Oh, how I hate these masks! Under them I can hardly breathe."
Dear people,
I would like to ask wewe a swali – the swali WHY. Why is there so much poverty in the world? Why so many wars? Why so much torture and agony? And why must children die and innocent suffer? I don’t understand it. Do wewe understand it?
I want to help. I want to make people happy, and may it be just for a moment. That is what gives my life a sense. Don’t wewe understand me? What did I do that wewe judge me? Are wewe really envious of me? wewe don’t have to. I wouldn’t wish wewe to be me…
Maybe wewe just want me to confess my ‘guilt’.
Yes, it is true, I do upendo children! But not the way wewe want it to be. I upendo them from the bottom of my heart. Because children don’t make wars. Children have never hurt me. It makes me happy to look in their shining eyes. Is it a crime wanting to be happy and want to make others happy? Many of them who visit me are going to die soon, of cancer au other terrible diseases. I won’t let wewe forbid me through your arrogance to give them just one happy day!
Yes, it is true that I had plastic surgeries! Do wewe know what it feels like?! How often did I have to wake up in pain! How often I didn’t know what would expect me when I look into the mirror! How often did I cry when I did it! Don’t wewe see that I’m punishing myself for that I cannot cope with my face – and with myself! Why do wewe also punish me for it?
Yes, it is true, once I was black! wewe get darker in the sun and get admired for that. But I am sick and wewe hit me for it. The sun wewe upendo so much can kill me. In former times I loved to be outside in the light, too, now I can nearly only go out at night. And wewe make your fun out of it. If I hadn’t become the Michael Jackson wewe know today, then I would also be like that: I would be a white black with curls and a thick niggernose for which everybody would tease me. Well, now wewe tease me because of my little nose. Maybe I would already be dead because I couldn’t protect myself so good as I can today. Would wewe prefer it when I was dead? au when I had never existed? But then wewe wouldn’t have my music! Would wewe like to do without ‘Billie Jean’?! My muziki wewe upendo though, don’t you? Just not me. But I create the muziki to make wewe happy.
wewe torture me with your disgraceful words. Words can sometimes hurt so much zaidi than punchs. Often I sit in an edge and cry. I ask God for what I have to suffer, what a reason I’ve aliyopewa you. Cause I never did harm to anyone. I am afraid of wewe ‘cause you’ve hurt me so badly. And I don’t even defend myself. I simply hide behind my masks. Oh, how I hate these masks! Under them I can hardly breathe. But I have no choice, it’s the only way to protect myself. But wewe don’t like it when I protect myself. You’d prefer to kick a defenceless man in his face. but this favour I won’t do you. I don’t need to be ashamed for anything I’ve done. And as I can see at you, dear Unknown there are people who understand my message.
My Marafiki and me, we don’t go into the war with tanks. We come with sunflowers to all of wewe even though wewe laugh at us and snap our flowers off. Maybe wewe will understand not before not only the flowers but the whole sun goes out. With my music, with what I do I would like to bring a light into the world. But is it necessary that I kill myself until someone believes me? And until someone believes me that I just want to do good things and that I suffer from your hate? But then wewe would be outraged: “And the children?!” Particularly wewe would say that, wewe who would upendo the most to take my children away from me. wewe say they aren’t my children. wewe say I couldn’t educate them. How do wewe want to know this?! And is it important then what blood is flowing through their veins when I would die for them? Your jealousy and your hate make wewe blind for what upendo means.
wewe don’t know me, nevertheless wewe have already judged me! You, those reporters who hammer me at the kuvuka, msalaba in the morning, wewe listen to my muziki in the evening! That is not fair! wewe are not interested in what wewe write if it just attracts readers and causes headlines. But my name is enough to attract the people. Why is it always necessary to denounce me? Why don’t wewe write something positive, there wewe wouldn’t have to tafuta so long! Why do I have to be ‘Wacko Jacko’? Can’t wewe see that the only one I’m hurting is myself?! wewe hunt me like I was a piece of cattle. Isn’t there anybody who sees that I’m also a human being?! Where do wewe have your heart? Where do wewe have your mercy? Where do wewe have your love?
If just one out of ten people who get this letter tries to understand me, already then my life is it worth being lived.
Peace, upendo and Kindness
From my heart, Michael Jackson."
EDIT: I'M NOT 100% SURE THIS IS WRITTEN kwa MICHAEL, PROBABLY A shabiki WHO WROTE IT. IT'S STILL A GOOD LETTER THOUGH! HATERS SHOULD READ IT...
