Bridneybridney,

please stay with me.

I know that I have nothing to give you

But I'm begging

and you're so kind

that you're cruel

Leave me, did you?

I can't see straight

I can't speak, words, they leave me

Jesus, Bridneybridney, don't you miss me?

Don't you believc me?

I can't think. Thoughts don't grieve me.

Leave me scared, hopless, lonely

Bridneybridney, just like you.

@chainedinshadow

Marilyn Monroe sat across from me, just as elegant and fragile as I’ve always imagined her to be. She gazed at me, wearing a sheer white dress, her blond hair covering her eyes. She looked so tired.

I’ve always been shy. At that moment I was looking at Marilyn Monroe in the flesh.

“Should I call you Marilyn?” I asked. “Or Mrs. Monroe?”

“Marilyn is fine.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve always admired you. And you know, you really are very beautiful.”

She didn’t seem to hear me at first, her face looking towards the door across from us.”

“Thank you” She said so softly that I could almost pass it off as the wind. “What’s your name?”

“Oh err...Helen.”

She looked at me like she didn’t believe me for a moment, until she repeated my name, “Helen...huh”

“Marilyn” I said. “Tell me something. Do you...like your life? I mean, you’re known as one of the most beautiful women in the world. I don’t mean to sound so foward but-”

“No, it’s fine” She waved her hand and took a deep, sharp breath. “Let me tell you a secret, Helen. I don’t think life is the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know that when I die, people will only remember me for my looks. Or my affairs. Or my mole.” She chuckled sadly. “And you know, it’s not like people don’t know that I’m a mess.”

I kept quiet. I knew very well that she was a mess.

“Everyone is a mess, Marilyn.” I said finally. “Some just hide it better than others do.”

She shook her head. “No, Helen. Not in the same way. Other messes can be cleand up.”

She looked at her with pity. Could my words change fate? We were more similar than I’ve ever thought. She’ll be known for her beauty and scandals and I won’t be known for anything. Which one was better?

“But, Marilyn” I said. She looked up at me like a homeless child I’d see on the streets of Baltimore. She wasn’t very different from them when she was younger. “I say things like that too.”

“You do?”

“Yes” I said. “But I never really mean it.”

She smiled half-way before squeezing ing her eyes shut. “That’s the difference between you and I” she said. “I always mean it.”