Writing thing I did

Uhm, I don't know how I really feel about this nowww... I thought I was like the next Shakespeare writing this practically drunk off of no sleep. It's kinda angsty and stuff and idk. 

Here it is I suppose:

Oh Gatsby, for what your name does not reflect what you are, at least in standard sense. Your name melts into my chest and I’m reminded of summers spent sleeping over and skateboarding. Gatsby, for I get a tiny pane of jealousy when I see you with a new girl, but I stuff it down knowing you’ll never love me back. I then replace it with feelings of lust, just to cover up something.

Like it’s obvious I’m hiding something.

Gatsby, to the person I thought would be my best friend. Where we played with paper folded swords. The last time I saw you was through a computer screen, and then I heard that you moved to a different state. Different states of seeing to different states of being. It was probably for the best though, you needed to get out of this town while you still could.

Gatsby, for the people I’ve never met, but I give their condolences. I give my condolences because I know you can never have your Gatsby. Whether it be a Gatsby you loved as a lover, loved as a friend, or something other.

Oh Gatsby, as I’m writing this, dying with my eye sagging and stomach bloating due to grief and pain, I would like to live your life without me. You probably could anyway. I love you Gatsby.

Oh Gatsby, your name is not who you fully represent, but you being a conduit is good enough.

- Alex H.

playlist I made for this:

Oh Gatsby