michael jackson Article: I miss him..

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posted by House34

I wanted to write a few words..because I miss him and I have no one to talk to..I don't know..he was so wonderful..I don't need a reason to write a few words about Michael, right? :) I feel like sharing some meaningless words with his fans..

I miss him so much..

It's been so long...and I still listen to his songs :) I still buy his albums, I still look at pictures with him every día :)

Did tu guys see how big Paris is now ? Wow..I'm so happy for her..she's talking to the media, she's strong and ..She's beautiful, she is so nice :) Right?

I sometimes think of him and I picture him in different moods..now if I close my eyes I see him smiling :) his beautiful smile..

How do tu guys feel? What song are tu listening a looot lately ? I've been listening a lot to Hollywood tonight and Man in the mirror :)

H34

MJpixy likes this

MJpixy I feel so lonely,like...I finally found that part of my life that was always missing,but I never realised it was missing,until he died and I found out about his existence,you know?And...I cry sometimes,alone like always,and I cry so hard sometimes,and I watch my clock with his picture smiling and I just wish...I just wish he was there,to hold me...and I get up from the floor,helped by the wall,and I go on my terrace...and I open the door,hoping in my madness that finally,I'll find him there!But he isn't...and I'm again,with no hope,dreaming of the day when I'll fly to Neverland,and never come back again!Lately,I've been listening to this tribute song:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVX488szQKw&feature=related,hope you like it too!Peace out and never give up hoping!:)>- I love you too,sissy!

sheem i mess him too

House34 Love you MJpixy, thanks for the song !!

House34 I know sheem :(( it's so hard...

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Michael Jackson fan Fiction - Forbidden amor Part 10 Revamp

posted by mywaymj84

Three weeks later on the eve of her birthday, acebo is in her bedroom packing up the remaining items that aren’t too visible. As she packs a stuffed dog into one of her duffle bags she hears the muffled shouts of her parents arguing downstairs. Every time she hears it she still gets a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach just like she did when she was five years old. Because every time she heard the beginnings of an argument it was bound to turn violent. “One más night,” she mutters to herself as she grabs her clothes from the drawer and packs it in another suitcase. Suddenly...