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Before you, there was but one.
Marilyn smiles after sharing this poem with her newly betrothed, keen to hear his thoughts.
Thats it, huh?
Is that the whole poem?
Yeah, she replies.
Well, thats good, honey, he responds, patting her on the leg.
The camera holds on her while she watches, dismayed, as he walks out of the frame.
But there are kernels of authenticity in both, including Monroes penchant for writing poetry.
Her poetry is used here to show how her creativity was often misunderstood or outright dismissed.
But in reality, from an early age, writing was a large part of Monroes life.
She then contemplates finding an ugly bridge before concluding, Ive never seen an ugly bridge.
Its these little perceptions that make her poetry so rich and reflect the true complexity of her emotional life.
One emotion in particular recurs throughout her notebooks and poems: fear.
The fear of disappointing those around her fueled a perfectionism that left her labeled difficult throughout her career.
One fragment reads, My body is my body / every part of it.
Still, she believed that to love bravely is the best.
These are just a few insights gleaned from Monroes writing.
Within them, there is perhaps the closest remainder of her own truth.
