Dear Diary, it's Marilyn

Prologue

The sound of my fans’ cheering was still ringing in my ears as I stepped out of the Rolls Royce, said good night to the driver, and entered my home.

I could still feel the rush I get from being greeted by thousands of fans just waiting for me to step out of my plane as the butler carried my luggage indoors.

The taste of my lover was still on my lips as I walked through the main hallway to my bedroom.

Everything was perfect and yet, somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I would never again leave my bedroom alive.

Perhaps people kill themselves because they can’t bear the thought of growing old.

Perhaps people kill other people because they can’t bear the thought of seeing them grow older.

Life is full of uncertainties. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? Maybe you will become famous. Maybe you will fall in love. Maybe you will take your own life. Maybe you will be killed.

I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.

I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life but I don’t regret a thing. Each mistake made me who I am.

We should all start to live before we get too old. Fear is stupid. So are regrets.

And who am I?  I am Norma Jeane Mortenson, but most people know me better as Marilyn Monroe.

You know the facts of my life, but do you really know me? No, how could you? You never met me. You never had the chance to know the real me…until now.

Now you can read on and see what I saw, not what the media saw. You can know my inner thoughts, thoughts I never told anyone. You can know my darkest secrets and my greatest pleasures. You can understand me and why I did the things I did.

My only advice as you read this:

Keep an open mind. Not everything in my time was the same as it is in yours.  

I want you to see the pain in my eyes. I want you to know what I had to lose for every little thing I gained. I don’t want you to look at the pin-up girl with the dazzling smile. I don’t want you to listen to the media.

I've never fooled anyone. I've let people fool themselves. They didn't bother to find out who and what I was. Instead they would invent a character for me. I wouldn't argue with them. They were obviously loving somebody I wasn't.

I am Marilyn Monroe, the original “It-Girl”, and this is my story.