Marilyn Monroe Was Human — And So Am I

By someone who grew up believing the myth… and only recently started seeing the woman.

I don’t remember the first time I saw Marilyn Monroe. Maybe it was a poster in a barbershop, or a photo online that everyone reposts every June. But I do remember the moment I realized she wasn’t just a Hollywood fantasy. She was a real person. And she broke my heart in the most unexpected way.

The Image We Inherited

Growing up, Marilyn Monroe was an emoji before emojis existed. She was the flirty wink, the red lips, the flying skirt. We inherited a cartoon. And for a while, I didn’t question it. Why would I? The world never asked me to.

But one late night, I found myself watching "The Misfits". Not for nostalgia. Not for fashion. Just… curiosity. And it hit me like a train: this woman was acting from somewhere deep. Her pain was not pretend. It leaked through her eyes, trembled in her voice. She wasn’t just saying lines. She was begging to be understood.

The Real Cost of Glamour

We like our stars clean and simple. But Marilyn? She was a mess. And that’s not an insult — that’s a compliment. Messy means real. It means struggling to show up when the world wants a version of you that you can’t always deliver.

According to Biography.com, Monroe faced ongoing battles with mental health, self-worth, and substance use. None of that fits neatly into the glittery frames we hang her in.

And the more I read about her, the more I recognized pieces of myself. The people-pleasing. The fear of not being enough. The exhaustion that comes from smiling when you're falling apart inside.

She Wasn't a Joke

We've turned Marilyn into a meme. A mood board. A punchline. But what if she were still here? Would we be kinder? Would we let her just… be?

As noted in The Guardian, modern writers and filmmakers are finally starting to peel back the layers. They’re asking better questions. Not "Why was she so sexy?" but "What made her so lonely?"

I think about that a lot. How someone so universally adored could feel so deeply alone. And I wonder: is that still happening to people around me? To me?

A Mirror, Not a Myth

Marilyn Monroe is not a cautionary tale. She’s not a warning sign. She’s a mirror. And if you look into her story long enough, you might see your own fears, your own longings, and your own search for meaning reflected right back at you.

She’s the reminder that fame doesn't fix the cracks — it just lights them up.

I read once on Vanity Fair that Marilyn didn’t just want to be beautiful. She wanted to be taken seriously. That’s all. Not worshipped. Not immortalized. Just seen.

Why I’m Writing This

I’m not a historian. I’m not a film critic. I’m just someone who saw her differently, and couldn’t look away. And maybe this post isn’t really about her. Maybe it’s about what happens when we finally let our icons be human. Maybe it’s about letting ourselves be human too.

If you’ve ever looked in the mirror and felt like you were pretending — just trying to hold it all together — you’re not alone. Marilyn knew that feeling well.

Conclusion

So here’s to Marilyn Monroe. Not the icon. Not the brand. The woman.

The one who laughed too loudly. Who read poetry on quiet nights. Who loved hard. Who hurt harder. And who — despite everything — still tried to believe in herself.

Just like I’m trying to believe in me.

Written for those who feel too much, smile too often, and still dare to be real.