When I see the term "White House" I read it as "Whitney Houston" before I can correct myself.
I can't even sometimes type the words "with" or "white" without mistakingly typing "Whitney".
When I see the year something was made, I will give a fleeting thought to what was happening in Whitney's career at that time or if she was even born during that time.
She even changed the way I say certain phrases like "Thank you" to "thank you much".
She is the reason I've come here and stayed for the past 14 years, meeting all of you.
This woman is tightly woven into the fabric of my life. I just keep sighing heavily saying "Whitney is dead" incredulously, trying to make myself believe it, letting those waves crash over me again and again, like poking at a severe body injury, hoping that this time maybe it won't sting as much, hoping maybe I'm starting to heal. I know time is a great healer but a part of me is defiant. I don't want to heal. I want her back. I want to see her dressed up and spouting Whitneyisms as only she can, with that voice that no matter how battered it may be, still sounds so elegant and refined when she speaks. I actually thought maybe Whitney could be a medical miracle and be revived hours later. I actually prayed last night that when I woke up this morning that it would be a breaking news headline on every TV station. I guess I'm rambling, but I don't know. Maybe this is part of the process we're all going through. If anyone reads this, thank you.
- ckwhitney, ZuZy, CJ and 4 others like this