Analysis Of The Story ' The Great Gatsby ' By F. Scott Fitzgerald

1542 WordsDec 22, 20157 Pages
and so the story goes: if one were to wander into the little tea-shop on the very edge of seventh avenue, they 'd immediately see a lone boy sitting there, a boy who somehow looks like there 's a puzzle piece missing from him, a boy who somehow has drooping eyes and hooded smiles like lunar eclipses. it could be his bruised-violet knuckles or his mussed hair or both, really, but he seems to be the very pinnacle of melancholy, porcelain-white and fragile with tidal waves etched into his skin and bones and veins and soul. there 's smudges of cobalt and cadmium yellow cracking underneath his crooked eyelashes, stained glass shattering within itself in disintegrating swirls of colour, and his posture is quieted as though a single blink will send his entire world unravelling around him. he 's the poster child for too much effort and over-worked and perfection is never enough, and there are bleeding marks and fading scars on his right hand 's fingers that ache and burn, blinding all those who look at him, even blinding himself. his notebook is painfully empty in front of him, lines wobbly and blurring and leading into the sort of infinity that spirals into fucking nowhere; and as he stares at the blank pages and blank spaces with a blank look in his eyes, he thinks when did this happen? when did i lose everything i have; first volleyball, then hinata, and now this? why am i finding it so fucking hard to just write a letter to him, ask how he 's doing, if he 'd like to see me
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