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.
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