F. Scott F.

F. Scott F.

I don’t know if I’m more the grandness of Gatsby or the decency of Nick Carraway.

Do I aspire to be the hero as tormented as that role may be or do I come to terms with the fact that the villain is pivotal in all of this and this is a mask I am tailored for as if my lambs were never silenced? If I lost you it’s okay all you need to know is I don’t get the girl in the end and either way at some point I die. So I guess that leaves me making arrangements for a funeral. I guess that leaves you wondering what happens next. Are you thinking about it, that magical what happens next? You can fit so much into such a simple sentence. So much complexity in a rudimentary three word phrase. Just say it out loud “What happens next?” Instantly your mind became that of a Sci-fi astronaut. You went from here to forever. To infinity and beyond is now the spectrum of your thoughts. We like to think about the future so much because often we are scared of how confusing moments here in the present can be. We have a false sense of hope that we can control the future. An illusion that everything that will become of us solely depends on how we function. How we are capable of so much but really hold minimal influence on a cosmic scale? Maybe that’s why we tell the dead to rest in peace. They aren’t burden with constantly trying to pretend they have it all under control. We lie in order to make ourselves believe we have it all figured out. I’m often spiraling out of control but I never show it in the physical.

Never is my chaos outwardly.

So that brings us back to this moment you and I are sharing. Do I aspire like Gatsby or be as meek as Nick Carraway? I don’t want to paint either in a negative light that’s not what my shading is about. But you can be Kanye or you can be as content as the person who moves with no motive. The man in the little house next door that is invited to all the parties but no one knows. In this story neither will be remembered.If your mind escapes you in either scenario you’ll still end up as Kurt Cobain. Which brings us back to resting in peace. I don’t know if we’ve come full circle or if I’ve just bent things more out of shape for you. Jay Gatsby or Nick Carraway it’s all a humble illusion of grandeur. They dwell on the edge of forever in part to F. Scott Fitzgerald. So indeed is it the writer I want to be? Would you rather live forever or be the person that authors the forever? Tonight I hope you rest in peace.

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