MANNY RAMIREZ RULES BITCHASSS…..

MOTHERFUCKERS!!! I DONT SEE HOW HE COULD CALL U

HATIN ASS BITCHES DEAR IT MAKES ME SICK THAT

HES SO NICE TO U
PLEASE READ IF YOU HAVE A HEART U WILL

UNDERSTAND HE WRITES: Dear people, I would like

to ask you a question – the question 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 you 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 you understand me?

What did I do that you judge me? Are you really

envious of me? You don’t have to. I wouldn’t

wish you to be me…
Maybe you just want me to confess my ‘guilt’:
Yes, it is true, I do love children! But not

the way you want it to be. I love 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 or other terrible

diseases. I won’t let you forbid me through

your arrogance to give them just one happy day!
Yes, it is true that I had plastic surgeries!

Do you 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 you see that I’m punishing myself for

that I cannot cope with my face – and with

myself! Why do you also punish me for it?

Yes, it is true, once I was black! You get

darker in the sun and get admired for that. But

I am sick and you hit me for it. The sun you

love 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 you make

your fun out of it. If I hadn’t become the

Michael Jackson you 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 you 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 you prefer

it when I was dead? Or when I had never

existed? But then you wouldn’t have my music!

Would you like to do without ‘Billie Jean’?! My

music you love though, don’t you? Just not me.

But I create the music to make you happy.
You torture me with your disgraceful words.

Words can sometimes hurt so much more than

punchs. Often I sit in an edge and cry. I ask

God for what I have to suffer, what a reason

I’ve given you. Cause I never did harm to

anyone. I am afraid of you ’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 you 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 friends and me, we don’t go into the war

with tanks. We come with sunflowers to all of

you even though you laugh at us and snap our

flowers off. Maybe you 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 you would be outraged:

“And the children?!” Particularly you would say

that, you who would love the most to take my

children away from me. You say they aren’t my

children. You say I couldn’t educate them. How

do you 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 you blind for what love means.
You don’t know me, nevertheless you have

already judged me! You, those reporters who

hammer me at the cross in the morning, you

listen to my music in the evening! That is not

fair! You are not interested in what you 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 you write something positive,

there you wouldn’t have to search so long! Why

do I have to be ‘Wacko Jacko’? Can’t you see

that the only one I’m hurting is myself?! You

hunt me like I was a piece of cattle. Isn’t

there anybody who sees that I’m also a human

being?! Where do you have your heart? Where do

you have your mercy? Where do you 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.