Michael Jackson.

Yesterday I would've likely have been making jokes about him, or rolling my eyes. But not today. Not now. I learned through TMZ that Michael Jackson had died about an hour before it was "official" and I found myself praying it wasn't so. I NEVER could've imagined that his death would hit me like a ton of bricks. I grew up with him, like so many others. His was the first poster on my wall. This one.

And this one.

And I was in love with him. And then it wasn't cool to like him anymore. I think I was in 2nd grade and all the 3rd graders made fun of all of us who did. Thriller was the coolest thing I ever heard.

I was in gym when I heard he was set on fire doing that commercial. I had a red, vinyl jacket full of zippers. I was SO cool. I remember in about 4th grade how he "humped" the ground in "The Way You Make Me Feel". Naughty Naughty Michael. 6th grade, Man In The Mirror. By that time I thought he was ridiculous. And all of these memories are so intertwined into who I am.

And now. Now I'm holding back tears.

It's probably how people felt years ago when Elvis died.

Oh, and about that little Beatles' obsession of mine? This is how it started.

Me: "Hey, Mom. Who's that old guy with Michael? Ew."

Mom: "Don't you dare blastpheme in this house again, young lady" (Or something so dramatic).

RIP Michael Jackson. I'm sorry that life got so strange for you. I really mean that with light and love.