Why I-Became Friends With Gatsby

Not that this decision to be friends with him was premeditated, but Gatsby was different. Gastby was an outcast, but in his own way just like me. He had an unbelievable amount of wealth, which I didn't have, but nevertheless he didn't fit with the crowd of his peers either. He had the amazing parties, but didn't attend them. He was showy at times, but wasn't obsessed with it all. I liked that he actually cared about more than money, trips, and big houses. He cared about people. He just didn't show that because he knew people would take advantage of him. He knew about the rumors that were spread about the town. He wanted to make sure he showed his personality to somebody that wouldn't disown his trust, which I guess was me. I realized how lonely Gatsby was once I actually got to know him, which made me want to be friends with him even more. I wanted him to have somebody. Frankly, I needed somebody too. Somebody to keep me level-headed in a place of self-indulgence and pleasure. Not that it was partially because I had pity for Gastby or was just settling to satisfy my own needs, but because I thought he deserved friends. It was so nice and refreshing for me to have a real conversation about the world and past experiences with another man, not just another chat about how nice the weather was or when I was planning to go into the city next. Gatsby had substance behind the money, which was hard to find in both East and West Egg.

What I Was Thinking-When I Didn't Shake Tom's Hand

Tom has this incredible knack for thinking he never does anything wrong. Apparently it's always everybody else's fault. So when he held out his hand for me to shake when I saw him on that busy New York street, I wasn't shocked. However, I thought to myself, "does he realize how many people's lives he has ruined? Or does he just not care? Did he even apologize to Daisy? Why does he expect me to look past his mistakes?" He just stood there with his hand outstretched, expecting me to embrace it like good, old, childhood friends. I wasn't stupid. I still didn't accept his gesture. I knew Tom would get angry, but I didn't care. I didn't need his approval, and I never wanted his friendship in the first place. In fact, I didn't even need Daisy's affection either. She never bothered to keep in touch with me until I moved to West Egg. I thought she just assumed that I couldn't see through her conniving ways either, even though I could. Of course, she was my cousin, and I would rather be around her for an entire day than spend an hour alone with Tom. I just simply never imagined that nobody else would put up with both of them voluntarily for days on end. Then I remember that everybody else in East and West Egg were just as shallow as they were. So no, I don't regret being buddy-buddy with Tom that day. He had to start learning that everybody isn't going to forgive all of your mistakes and that there are consequences to your actions.

What I Was Feeling-When I Moved To West Egg

It was a pretty big step for me to switch from a little family house to the exciting, high-end West Egg. I felt that I would be successful in that area and among the rich, even though I wasn't to the fullest extent one of them. I wasn't accustomed to that get-everything-you-want-whenever-you-want lifestyle, but was open to giving it a try. I was still nervous though, but that was to be expected. Sure, I was well off, but I felt like a poor servant among kings at times. I hoped that everybody would like me, and I wouldn't make any enemies. That fear of rejection or hatred from my new peers was something I didn't want because everybody in town knew each other's business whether it was positive or not. Seeing how Daisy and Tom treated each other and other people, I didn't want to be like them, but I was confident that there were genuine rich people. Meeting Gatsby confirmed my hope and I was getting used to living comfortably. The fancy parties, ease of luxury, and fast-paced adventures just around the bend was starting to become a part of me after long, but I was ok with that. I liked it. I didn't feel like it was consuming my life like Daisy, Tom, and their friends. It wasn't until Gatsby's death that my heart told me how superficial I could easily become and that I had to distance myself from this way of life and return back home to my old-fashioned, get-what-you-want-through-hard-work routine.