I was kinda depressed by the story of the great gatsby. I heard a summary of it in school. Gatsby is in love with this random girl. He goes off to fight in world war 1 and comes back to find the girl already married to another guy. He becomes rich and "successful" he throws many parties but is never really happy because he never gives up on that girl. He lends the girl his car one day for whatever reason. And she knocks down a random woman on the street and kills her. Gatsby doesnt tell anyone, and neither does the girl. The husband of the dead woman tracks Gatsby down, and kills him, and himself in vengance.
And nobody goes to Gatsby's funeral, except maybe his father and a few random family members. No one from his random parties. No friends. Not even the girl. Who he could have been said to have died for.
This totally depresses me.
Partly because i could see the same thing happening to me.
Not really the no one coming to my funeral part though. Im quite sure some of you would.
I didnt need to hear that story. Not now.
I think i need therapy
Did i mention that being a psychological therapist(if thats whatever you call it) is one of the most awesome jobs in the world. People pay you and you insult them for it. You get to say stuff like YOU HAVE A NEGATIVE PERSONALITY, YOU WORRY TOO MUCH.
I think I would pay for someone to do that to me now.
Let me know if you're interested

Labels: Love, my weird opinion, myself