June 22nd, 1925
Summer; where the air was warm and tenderly, where the rays of the sun glows on my skin, where the sweet scent of ripening peaches is present. Tom and I had taken a spontaneous road expedition and managed to end up in Louisville. Louisville; where my youthful innocence had captivated a young trainee army officer. The name in which had not come across my mind over 3 years now. 3 years later and all that I’ve moved on from, or thought I’ve moved on from, is haunting my every thought. Gatsby. What Gatsby? The once upon a time, ravishing man who loved me. But love was just not enough for me. Just being in Louisville alone brings back a monstrosity amount of memories from that summer. Mostly of which are memories of Gatsby. What Gatsby? The one who had invited my cousin Nick and I to his gaudy mansion on this very day, three summers ago. The one who was just a regular tough underneath it all. The one who had everything I ever wanted. And yet, I still chose the feasible option. The safe option. Safe with the awful, cheating hulk of a husband. But safe. Tom is my safety. A daisy wouldn’t be a daisy without her pretty petals and firmly anchored roots. Tom with all his money and legacy are my roots. Secure. Gatsby couldn’t give me that. Gatsby was a lot of things. Impressive did not even begin to express what he was like. Impressive to describe Gatsby sort of degrades him a little. Impressive would be an understatement. The assuring rare smile he smiled which concentrated right at you would make you feel understood. He was intensely earnest. One of his best qualities, in my opinion. The masculine elegance he paraded swept me off my feet a lot of the time. And it was A LOT of the time that he displayed that elegance. Though, being Daisy Buchanan and having a reputation to uphold, my feet were only imaginarily swept. His well-loved eyes that knew how to love. Well loved eyes that longed for wealth and sophistication. The sophistication and elegance that...
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