leave me alone, I'm reading

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The Great Gatsby makes me sad. It makes me sad in the way that the Police's "Every Breath You Take" makes me sad. It makes me sad in the way that thinking of all of my unfulfilled dreams makes me sad, the long list of things I will never do makes me sad, the way that being made fun of or bullied or rejected makes me sad.

Jay Gatsby could've been great. He's a decent sort of fellow, nice enough, and intelligent enough. He really could've been a great guy. Instead, his obsession with Daisy (who shines like money, wink-wink) makes him ironically "great". It makes him an outcast, a criminal, a poser, a loser. It makes him counterfeit (hehe, did you get that?) and "great" only by reputation.

He surrounds himself with people who don't know him and don't care about him, throws parties to appear popular, but the joke's on him:

"People were not invited - they went there...Once there they were introduced by somebody who knew Gatsby, and after that they conducted themselves according to the rules of behavior associated with an amusement park. Sometimes they came and went without having met Gatsby at all..."

and this makes me weep for him. He is so blinded by his obsession that he can no longer even see himself clearly.

What a waste of a man. What an indictment of money and the society that revers it. Shame, shame - shame on him, shame on us. Shame.