I believe that there is a "Daisy" in each and every one of us. Doesn't matter what race she's from or what religion she follows. Doesn't matter if she's that quiet shy innocent young lady or a wild spirit. Doesn't matter if she trades her Louboutin's for Nike' from time to time or settles with her comfortable flats (Boring!)
Each and every one of us dreams of being covered by blinding white-pearls from Tiffany's. Each and every one of dreams of glamorous yacht parties in Cannes. Each and every one of dreams of being driven around by all-black matte Rolls Royce (Too specific? Guess that's just me).
Too exquisite? That was just the cake. Dry and untamed by icing.
The truth is, most importantly, each and every one of dreams of having her own great Gatsby.
A true unconditional love that only exists once every couple of years, or if I dare say, once in a lifetime.
The man who if you say: "Paris?" He asks: "When?"
Don't get me wrong, it's not just all about the glitz and glamour. I guess, for me, It was more about the way Gatsby looked into Daisy's eyes. It's as if he'd never seen anything so beautiful, so precious, so fragile. Strength is suffocating and weakness is beauty, in Daisy and Gatsby's case at least.
For two hours, my classmates and I lived in pure bliss. Watching the scenes between Daisy and Gatsby and probably turning us fluorescent green with envy.
I guess that's what made accepting his death scene so difficult for us. My classmates and I teared/cried as if a close person has passed away. I guess it wasn't because Gatsby's death, it was more of the idea that a love so powerful could vanish in an instance. We were given the strongest love story for two hours then had it ripped away from us. I guess we mainly cried because, if Gatsby and Daisy couldn't make it, how could we?
Truth is ladies: There is no Gatsby.
And I'm sorry to break it to you, but Gatsby is the reason you will face many disappointments due to high expectations.
To me, the reason why Gatsby died, is because a person like Gatsby is like a dream and dreams die as soon as you wake up, both physically and mentally.
Each and every one of us dreams of being covered by blinding white-pearls from Tiffany's. Each and every one of dreams of glamorous yacht parties in Cannes. Each and every one of dreams of being driven around by all-black matte Rolls Royce (Too specific? Guess that's just me).
Too exquisite? That was just the cake. Dry and untamed by icing.
The truth is, most importantly, each and every one of dreams of having her own great Gatsby.
A true unconditional love that only exists once every couple of years, or if I dare say, once in a lifetime.
The man who if you say: "Paris?" He asks: "When?"
Don't get me wrong, it's not just all about the glitz and glamour. I guess, for me, It was more about the way Gatsby looked into Daisy's eyes. It's as if he'd never seen anything so beautiful, so precious, so fragile. Strength is suffocating and weakness is beauty, in Daisy and Gatsby's case at least.
For two hours, my classmates and I lived in pure bliss. Watching the scenes between Daisy and Gatsby and probably turning us fluorescent green with envy.
I guess that's what made accepting his death scene so difficult for us. My classmates and I teared/cried as if a close person has passed away. I guess it wasn't because Gatsby's death, it was more of the idea that a love so powerful could vanish in an instance. We were given the strongest love story for two hours then had it ripped away from us. I guess we mainly cried because, if Gatsby and Daisy couldn't make it, how could we?
Truth is ladies: There is no Gatsby.
And I'm sorry to break it to you, but Gatsby is the reason you will face many disappointments due to high expectations.
To me, the reason why Gatsby died, is because a person like Gatsby is like a dream and dreams die as soon as you wake up, both physically and mentally.
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