“I always felt like I was looking at them through glass… as if I were on display, and they were inside, laughing, talking, living,”
— Marilyn wrote in her diary.
“They laugh at me, and I feel like I’m standing somewhere in a showcase, exposed, watched… but never invited in,”
— she added in another entry
Kill Marilyn. Secrets That Kill: Hollywood Under the Rule of the Elite
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Valeria V. Miller
