Never, will Neverland be the same...

...without it's very own Peter Pan.

The melodrama gene uncharacteristically subdued. It doesn't seem right for him to have died like this. All alone, like a little boy left in the dark. Even more surreal to read about the death of a talented, 50 year old freak of nature. I feel the disbelief a sudden death of youth engenders. Michael Jackson. A child with children of his own. The sadness seeps through my consciousness like a badly insulated window. More than anything, I feel the loss of a pure talent; pity for the boy-man whose life was a regression. Idolised, before being cruelly devoured by those that spawned him; Isolated, unable to reconcile the catatonic adulation with the vicious jeers. The prophecy that was 'Leave me alone'.

Where were all the album sale boosting fans when he needed them most? Fans weep. Tributes fall like rain. 'I am so very sad and confused with every emotion possible' - Lisa Marie Presley. Maybe she did understand better than anyone else. 'I'm having a million different reactions I didn't except I would feel' - Cher. Every one's heart goes to his children and his family.

My heart goes to the little boy with the Afro, who just wanted to sometimes be like other little boys. But to want to be something you're not, is unacceptable. Especially when you're such an easy target. And they never stopped using him, did they. That's who my heart aches for. That confused little boy in the fishbowl with his magic moves, music and imagination. We let him soar because he was so beautiful.... But he wouldn't live his life the way we wanted him to, so we cut his wings.

I'm not a Michael Jackson fan. I thought the moonwalk was silly. I remember Billie Jean. I remember watching Diana Ross introduce him as, 'My baby Michael Jackson' in the early 70's. Some little black boy with an Afro. Almost easy as 123, he was the King of Pop. Kylie is pop. Michael Jackson.....is incredible talent. Was pure talent. A fundamental part of my life. Our lives. You didn't have to think about him, he was just there. Maybe that's why it feels so strange to think it might be over. But it can't be. Not while we're still here.....

Like a comet, he blazed through a generation, giving life as he took it. Ours. His. Death is the only constant; perhaps Peter Pan's found his way to Neverland. Good night Sweet Prince.