The figure stood on the Italian renaissance inspired balcony and a coy smile spread itself across her marble white face. Is that really Marilyn Monroe, naked? How amusing! could be heard among the crowds below, far below the beautiful balcony and the even more divine Monroe.
Her name was seen everywhere; in magazines, on radio, posters and on the cinema screen. My safe corner, where no one can reach into my little shivering baby heart. She was now officially famous. Me, famous? No, that must be a mistake. A terrible one. She was told that she was special, hadn’t she always known that? Being special was as natural as striking a pose, especially if you had a father who was famous in Hollywood and who everyone knew, except you. The mystery of it cast a fairytale shimmer around you. Someday, he would come and save you. Yes, he would.
She was born to be s star, an extraordinary delivery to the American nation. To the hungry eyes of the world, who only waited to get a bite of her, that delicious piece of human flesh. Its mouth watered!
Norma Jeane was like a washed-out t-shirt. She’d been worn by so many people. All the men in Hollywood and many more. There was barely enough cloth to wrap around herself now. Still, why would she need to cover her gorgeous self in clothes? She was more enjoyable naked!
Her fame was corrosive to her. I will only be alive as long as the world loves me, as long as I am needed.