this is about Jay Gatsby.

The Great Gatsby is a novel about trying to emulate the past by recreating the exact environment in which something happened and hoping it mimics itself precisely. Utilising nostalgia to recreate the simpler times.
Except your childhood wasn’t exactly that simple and your parents were actually struggling to make ends meet and were wondering if they could afford Christmas presents that year. And the boy you thought liked you back actually liked someone else and didn’t know how to break it to you, and the way the boys treated you at work wasn’t flattering but in hindsight a form of cruelty.
And no matter how many times you go over it you can’t figure out how you’re here, how you always end up here, alone on a Friday night, with nothing but a cup of tea and a dog-eared romance novel by your elbow.
And no matter how you try to change deep down unfortunately you’re still you and there must be something about you that no amount of mascara or hair twirls can change; it’s still been five years since you’ve been on a date and it’s a thought that will always haunt you after the third wine.
Jay Gatsby was chasing a thing in his past that was better than his future but still not everything he ever wanted, and it makes you sad when people say they don’t like the novel because they have what you don’t.

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