A Character in Classic
It Would Be Such A Pleasure To Not Really Exist But To Live On Forever
I wonder how it would feel to be a character from some classic — Evil or Good, to have a significant role in the magnificent theater of life, to come up and have the courage of being good; or the audacity of being bad, to either be Jay Gatsby or just be careless Daisy Buchanan ruining his life, to be extravagant Tom, or for that matter even his servant.
To be anyone but Nick Carraway
We are the Nick Carraways of our stories. The ones always present but rarely visible. A character in the play but still like that of an audience, the one who is nothing more than a flower vase in a movie set. All the commotion happens at the dining table or the sofa set or in the parking lot. The flower vase sits like a piece of decoration, with no real purpose.
The play would come to an end, just like one’s life on this planet. There would be applause and praises. They’d remember the Great Gatsby and they’d remember the heinous night when Daisy killed the Garage Lady. They’d remember the huge mansions of both the parties. They’d remember everything but the vase with the beautiful flowers. They’d remember everything but the little window from the house overlooking Gatsby Mansion They’d remember everyone but the person telling the story, the one quite purposeless being who had the privilege of watching the play while being a part of it, the one who wasn’t evil, but was also not blessed with Gatsby’s greatness or Daisy’s recklessness. Let’s be Gatsby or Tom or at least Daisy in our life stories.
Let’s not just stand and watch things happen. Let’s make them happen
