This book, The Great Gatsby, is a tale of deceit and the silent despair in the world of the human. Everything is not what it is made out to look like and often convincing as such. It is created by and creates the fear of being left in that portal which is the object of escape and the depths of despair. It shows life is a whirlwind which cannot be controlled, and many times even for the sick is not wished to be controlled because humans are too worrisome over what will and will not be and would rather turn their backs than face what is real. Distressing to look at and face but bliss to ignore and get on with the life which you know nothing about and never will know about because you are too stupid not to have the thought to want to know about. Humans do not do what is best for them and others only what will protect them from austerity, leading the path wide open for the dullness and loneliness they cannot find within themselves because yet again they ignore it with stupidity. This is a sad, pathetic, and rueful story showing the discontent and avarice that lies within the human mind. On the other hand, it shows the nescience, naivet, and overall dullness of the mind who tries for something that is already to far gone to worry about, often the characteristics of the heart. The battle of the heart and mind is one that has and will go on for ages and is too petty of a matter to suffer over because if you let one or the other control it is much to easy to ruin yourself.“I am what I cannot be and am what I am not. My mind tells me I am not what I believe and want to be, but my heart tells me I am what I believe and want to be so I must be what I am not. But what am I? Am I life or death? Am I old or new, close or far? But I am what I believe to be, but belief is rarley fact. Then what of fact? Is it truth or still just belief? Is anything truth? Or, is everything real? All myths and legends surround life and make life what i...
