In a page in his diary headed Nice 22.01.1892, Munch described his inspiration for the image thus:
"I was walking along a path with two friends — the sun was setting — suddenly the sky turned blood red — I paused, feeling exhausted, and leaned on the fence — there was blood and tongues of fire above the blue-black fjord and the city — my friends walked on, and I stood there trembling with anxiety — and I sensed an infinite scream passing through nature."
I did it. I let out my first scream. I think it is the holidays - the hurt. The void. My scream became screams and pounding and crying and feeling. Feeling what I have been feeling since March 27 at 4:30 p.m. The day my sky turned blood red. Feeling hate. Feeling angry. Feeling that my life is a big blur of a dream, that I can’t wait to be over. Feeling exhaused at keeping it in any longer. It built up inside me… in my chest. Where my broken-heart is trying not to break anymore at my lost dreams. My scream built up in my belly, in my head. I could not keep it in. I could not stand it anymore. I hope no one hears me scream – it sounded like someone being tortured – because that is what all this feels like inside me. It physically hurts every part of me.
I am kind of mad at myself for screaming – because now I am sick. And also because I know the Eternal promise Frankie and I have...but sometimes it doesn't make it any easier.
Screaming takes a lot out of a person. But – I guess that is the point.