What I was thinking when I saw Tom in New York

As I took one of what would be one of my last strolls through New York, I encountered Tom Buchanan.  He greeted me with extreme gentleness and gayity as if he had forgotten the tragic events of a few days prior.  I watched blankly as Tom moved his hand eagerly before mine, and I let it just sit there idly.  I would not dare touch the hand of such a heartless man, hiding his immoral ways behind his wealth.  I was worried that if I had even gotten close to this man, let alone shake his hand, his selfishness would pass over to me.

What I was feeling when I found out that Jay knew Diasy

From across the party, I could see that Jordan's expression had gone from intrigued to delightfully fascinated.  I asked her what Gatsby was talking to her about nd she seemed to excited for words.  Much later on, once Jordan had returned to her poised composure self, she told me that Gatsby and Daisy used to be in a romantic relationship before the war about five years ago.  I felt quite astonished at the thought of Gatsby having to live a modest life out in the West somewhere.  I decided that I would take the responsibilty of their reunion because I could not resist the urge to make Daisy happy once again.

Why I broke up with Jordan

After Gatsby's death, I could not stand to be around the people I had become so close with this summer in Long Island.  I met Jordan Baker for lunch, immediately finding that the beauty of her face did not distract me from the immoral world like it did every time I saw it before.  To be honest, her mere presence was disturbing to me especially because she I knew she would continue to be friends with Daisy.  Anyone who would maintain a friendship with the Buchanans would be no friend of mine.  With the memory of Gatsby's pale, dead body still fresh in my head, I could no longer like Jordan the same way.  I left that relatiosnhip without a single word exchanged about my move to the west for I thought it would be better to end it without the mess of confrontation.

Why I left my fiance

I was quite surprised when Daisy and Tom had mentioned my previous involvment with a young girl back at my old home in the West.  I guess small town talk can get around easily, even all the way to the East.  I had formerly been enganged to a girl I had known growing up.  I never broke off the relatonship before  I moved to the East.  I suppose I wanted things to work out themselves, for I am not one for handling situations like that.  I never considered bringing my exfiance along with me because I was not ready for marriage.  I still thought of myself as young man, having all the time in the world to make a lifelong commitment.  After seeing the relationship of my dear friends ruined by adulterous affairs, I was sure I did the right thing by escaping from my own relationship.

What I was feeling when I met Myrtle

I was very curious as to why our car had stopped in a small, decrepit town outside of the city.  Tom got out and walked around the car to my door and then said, "Come on.  I want you to meet my girl."  Though I was surprised he brought me here, I soon realized that he knew I would never speak of his affairs to anyone even Daisy.  A large, feminine figure appeared and walked slowly and gracefully down the steps to where we were standing.   This woman, not acknowledging me, looked intently and lovingly directly into Tom's eyes.  The whole time I stood in that empty car shop, I felt absolutely dissgusted.  How could Tom love anyone besides my beautiful cousin?  Afterall, the mere sound of her soft voice could make a man feel like he was being addressed by an angel.  I turned away my head and promised I would not say anything.  It was not my place to get involved in the affairs of the Buchanans, but I felt a deep sense of guilt for Daisy.  One that I thought would never go away.

What I was thinking when I went to Gatsby's party

Earlier today I had been formally invited to one of my neighbor's infamous parties.  I took great pleasure knowing I was one of the only people that had actually received an invitation.  As a new resident of Long Island, I did not recognize any of the faces dancing wildy about Gatsby's garden until I stumbled upon Jordan Baker.  After sometime walking along with Jordan, we found ourselves sitting among many interesting people gossiping about Gatsby.  I, myself, had often wondered about that man, so I was began to listen intentively to what his guests were revealing about him.  Each guest seemed mysterious as well and the idea that he had killed a man had been introduced.  As the people continued blabbering about this idea, I began to question if it was true.  Why have I not even seen Gatsby?  Why does he appear mysterious to all  of his guests?  What could be the purpose of these parties and why was I invited?