A letter to my dad
1:10 p.m.

Greetings!

This is about the 500th letter that I�m writing to you, and the first one I think I�m going to send. Sometimes I wonder if I�ve written these letters with no true intentions of sending them, or if I really have wanted you to hear what my heart is trying to say, and I�ve just been too afraid to take my hand off of it�s mouth.

Well, obviously this isn�t a fan letter. I�ve been trying to find a way to get to know you since I was a little girl, and obviously you don�t want to make any similar effort toward me. That is marginally understandable, albeit extremely immature in my opinion. Well, that is if the stories I�ve heard are true.

I�ve spent my entire life only knowing half of who I am, and the other half has been a complete fantasy. Let me spell this out to you, and stop being cryptic for a while. My mom has told me for years (even before Billie Jean came out ...the song and the story) that you�re my father. I don�t know of any other man being my father. The man who is on my birth certificate has had blood tests with me, and he�s not my dad.

I was born on Saturday January 31st, 1981 at Booth Maternity Ward in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My mom raised me alone in West Philadelphia. I don� t have any brothers or sisters (that I�m aware of, but I have my assumptions as to if I have siblings or not). I was home schooled for all of my K-12 education because I was a very intelligent (and hyperactive) child.

What I�m looking for here is some closure, and a definitive answer to some pretty basic questions. �Who� is my dad,� and �Who am I?� In today�s society, there are tons of kids who will never really know their fathers, but my case is a little unique. I know who my dad is, but it�s been a little crazy. It�s not every day that you�ll come across someone who has been told by their single mother, in all seriousness that their father is Michael Jackson, or any other famous person for that matter.

You have to try and understand what I�m going through here. The only truth that I�m aware of is what my mother told me; that my father is Michael Jackson. There�s no way for me to prove that as the blood samples of famous people are strangely unavailable to the public. Who would have thought? In conversation with friends and acquaintances, when asked who my dad is, an honest response makes me sound terribly insane. People don�t take me seriously when I tell the truth, and that�s pretty embarrassing.

What else I find embarrassing and somewhat insulting is, that if you are truly my father, you have taken it upon yourself to do so many wonderful things for children around the world, yet completely ignored your own flesh and blood. That can do some rotten things to the ego of a 7 year old watching the man she�s heard is her father give a one million dollar check to starving children in Ethiopia, when she lives in a poor neighborhood in west Philadelphia.

I�m an educated, intelligent, outgoing, youthful (silly), good looking, independent, and sane young woman with a fairly high opinion of herself. I�m not a fanatical uber-MJ fan; I don� t even own any of your albums. (no offense intended) I just want a chance to get some answers. This has been a very difficult subject for me, and I feel weak, in that I don�t know who I am.

Let me be real, and honest with you.

I really don�t want to begin a dialogue with your lawyers. I don�t want an auto reply e-mail. I don�t want a phone call. I don�t want a tour of your ranch. I don�t want a letter from your fan club, and I sure as hell don�t want to be ignored. I�ve had a good 22 years of being ignored, and to be quite honest that gets a little old. I want to speak directly to you-- face to face,� have a civil conversation, and have my questions answered. I don�t want to involve the press, or the law. I just want to know who my Dad is.

I can take some vacation days, and come out to a location that�s convenient to you. If you can come to Philadelphia (which would save me a lot of money that I don�t have!), that�d be even better. I�m sure you know of somewhere discreet that we could meet, have a cup of coffee and a slice of pie ala mode or something, and get our conversation on.

I think that�s a fair request. If you�re not my dad, fine- I will finally have an answer. It will be nice to have met you, and I can go to my mom with some more pressing questions. If you are my pop, it�s about time to �fess up, don�t you think? I�m not going to go alert the press (not unless you give me a reason to. Things can be handled in a civil, mature fashion... I said I was educated, and sane, trust me here).

Please do me this favor, and hear me out.

I look forward from hearing from you,

Me

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