I do not love Nick Carraway.

I never have, and possibly never will. But, in a way, I can not seem to live without him either. His reserved opinions, his ability to hold no judgement. He is the only one who didn't choose Gatsby. He chose me.

I suppose, with that reason alone, I settled on him, with the loss of Daisy. I dated other women, despite how faux they are, and how unsettlingly lewd they could be. None of them compared to Daisy. And yet, none of them could compare to Nick either. I knew who I was, and I knew what person I wanted. But, I wanted a woman. I wanted a girl with silky hair and a soft face. Or at least I thought I did. Nick, in such a short time, changed everything about my world and reared it upon its head, with no room to go back to life before. My eyes were no longer across the bay. It was watching the soft glow of the cottage next door.

Or at least, it was before I left the life I worked years to create. That life was never truly my own, but that was something I did not know until I got to know Nick. I still do not know if it is what I want. Everything Nick represents is everything I wanted to abandon, but despite that, I still found myself wandering back into the life I left before.

That was another thing I suppose I loved about Nick. He was not a man to expect the world. He wouldn't deny it if it was handed to him, but he never chased feverishly after it either. I was not the same. I wanted it all. I gained my money, I gained my home, my life. I spent so much of my life in a stride of the direction to success. And what for? I gave it all away, for something that was far more forbidden than the apple in the garden of Eden. I gave away my power and fortunes for a man.