Marilyn Monroe
This blog is dedicated to the life and memory of an amazing woman known to most as Marilyn Monroe. She may have had a rough life, but she still always managed to delight the world with this wonderful character that we have all grown to love .
157 notes · 21 Jul 2014 · reblog


"It really bothers me when they blame marilyn for being “confused” and “difficult”, and for her tardiness. The reason is, because I know what it’s like. I also have insomnia, endometriosis, and I battle depression and nervousness every day (and also, a high IQ) With those things combined life is extremely difficult.

A situation that can be an example of life in Marilyn’s (and my own) shoes: say, I’m up all night, nervous about the following day, even though it’s just a conference. What if I misunderstand someone and say something stupid? What if I don’t know the answer? Etcetera. It’s 6 AM. I wonder if it’s even worth it to take some medication to help me sleep or a drink, or if I should just get up and take something to wake up. If I sleep, I’ll probably be late and even more exhausted, and I’ll mix up my words. If I stay up, I’ll look terrible, feel terrible, and probably will be in a bad mood and still mix up my words. Either way i loose. I choose to get up. I eat my usual breakfast, and take some pills to give me some energy. I try and pass the time, after all it’s only 6. No one else is up yet, and it’s lonely. I read, I listen to a record very quietly, and I get in the bath. I sit and think and think and think some more, and it depresses me, but I can’t help but think, I can’t stop my restless mind. My husband knocks on the door, I say I’ll be out soon. I get out, only to find I’m already an hour late to the conference that kept me up all night. Then I get terrible pains in my stomach, and I realise that it’s that time where the debilitating pains come back again. Great. I don’t feel well, sick from the lack of sleep, exhausted, and my head and stomach hurt like hell. I eventually get up, when some of the ailments temporarily subside. I get dressed, hoping I don’t look like I feel, and I try and make myself look good. Eyeliner, layers of foundation, highlights, eyeshadow, pencil, lipsticks in all shades, and the beauty mark… only I don’t feel beautiful. I remove the pins from my hair and after some tweaking I’m decent enough to leave… or so I thought. The nerves come back, along with the headache. It takes a while to stop thinking about all the bad possibilities… but it doesn’t take much to push me back to those thoughts, but finally, I’m ready to go, I’m her. 

Fast forward to the conference, I say I love Beethoven. They ask which one of his works in particular I prefer… my mind is blank. I know the answer, I really do, and I can’t believe I can’t remember it when it matters… damn insomnia. But instead of sitting there making it even worse I laugh at myself, and make up an answer. I’m more upset than I should be, but laughing about it will make them think I don’t care, but my stomach is now in knots and I’m angry with myself, like I always am for anything I say that I didn’t think through again and again. 

I apologise for this being so long and it’s not even scratching the surface of the difficulties of living life with these problems but I at least wanted to help people understand a little more why it is not a choice to be like this and it is extremely difficult to function when your life is a constant struggle with yourself, and other people making comments like, for example, Olivier, makes it so so so much worse because we already feel terrible about the embarrassing and difficult things we say and so spur of the moment, no matter how minuscule.

(If you believe this to be insightful, I would consider it an honour to have you publish it. You can cut things out if you want but it’s just something I wrote at 6AM having another sleepless night and I wanted to express how this life feels. I’m sorry if you don’t like it, I didn’t mean to infer my life is as difficult as hers was, but i have dealt with enough to somewhat understand)
Love, Jolie”

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